


Peace Is Hard to Find

by savorvrymoment



Series: 'Hope' [2]
Category: Avenged Sevenfold
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Dubious Consent, Felching, M/M, Sexual Dysfunction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 09:57:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 87,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/savorvrymoment/pseuds/savorvrymoment
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>~And now, two and a half years after that night Zack first came up to him on that street corner, Brian’s skin crawls with all of his self-doubts, short-comings, and secrets.~  Follow-up to 'Hope Is Hard to Come By'--Brian seeks therapy to cope with his past</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~ But he has to talk to someone, because there are things that are crawling back from his past, his gut, his very being that are sickening to him.~

It’s 2:30 in the afternoon—summer, hot, though otherwise unremarkable—when Brian finds himself sitting in a huge, overstuffed, too comfortable chair at a therapist’s office. He fidgets, watching the woman in front of him, one Dr. Lacey Franklin, general psychiatrist, specializing in relationships, couples therapy, and sex therapy. Brian isn’t sure if she is what he's looking for, maybe he needs someone specializing in abuse and past trauma, but the website did say general psychiatry as well. It has to be better than nothing…

He’d snuck around behind Zack’s back about this, something that has just made him feel even more horrible, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d found the information regarding their health insurance by sifting through Zack’s bills, then looked up which therapists in the area were covered under their plan. He’d discluded all the male therapists at once—he can’t talk to another man about this, about everything. He’s mortified enough going to a woman therapist and opening up. Talking about his past sexual trauma and his current relationship with Zack now to another man? Unthinkable.

But he has to talk to someone, because there are things that are crawling back from his past, his gut, his very being that are sickening to him. He’s beginning to realize there’s a lot he never put to rest, a lot he just brushed under the rug when he met Zack and was taken under the man’s wing. And now, two and a half years after that night Zack first came up to him on that street corner, Brian’s skin crawls with all of his self-doubts, short-comings, and secrets.

Lacey’s quiet at first, reading through the short questionnaire he’d filled out in the waiting area. ‘Name’, ‘Age’, and ‘Job’. ‘Family’, ‘Belief System’, and ‘Hobbies/Activities you enjoy’. ‘Sexuality’, ‘Relationship Status’, and ‘Are you happy with your current relationship status? Please explain’.

Then finally the big one, ‘Why have you sought out therapy? And what do you hope to accomplish from it?”

Brian had mainly stuck to one word answers. ‘Brian Haner’, ‘29’, and ‘Student/work part-time at coffee shop’. ‘Parents deceased, Zack my significant other’, ‘Spiritual’, and ‘Playing guitar, reading, video games’. ‘Bi-sexual’, ‘Committed relationship’, and ‘Happy’.

Though the last one had stumped him. He’d sat for some five minutes staring at it trying to find the right words before failing, and then he just wrote the first thing that came to mind.

This is of course what Lacey brings up first thing. “The last question here, why have you sought out therapy? You answered that you ‘needed someone to talk to’.”

It sounds horrible coming out of her mouth, sounds weak and pathetic. “I mean,” he says, trying to clarify, “I need someone objective. Someone who won’t judge me.” _And won’t call me pathetic… though who knows maybe she will._

“That’s what I’m here for,” she says. “I am the objective party. I’m not here to judge you, I’m here to help you. And whatever you say stays here between us. I’m required to report if I feel you are a danger to yourself or others—but that is the extent of it.”

“I don’t think I’m quite that far gone yet,” he says self-deprecatingly.

She gives him a sad smile, and says, “Then go on. Talk about what you need to talk about.”

“I…” he says, not even knowing where to start. The list is long, and the story is ugly. “I am a whore,” he blurts, jumpy, suddenly unable to look her in the eye. “I used to whore myself out on a corner down in the bad part of downtown. Uhm…”

She doesn’t let him continue, instead says, “Wait, I’m confused. You say you are a whore, then say you used to whore. Do you currently…?”

“No, no, I don’t,” Brian cuts in, getting ready to explain himself, then looks up at her. Looks at the raised eyebrow and the knowing smirk. She’s waiting for him to correct himself. It makes him chuckle despite his nervousness, or maybe because of his nervousness. “You…” he finally says, trailing off, “I didn’t know therapists were allowed to be sarcastic.”

“You seemed smart enough to handle it,” Lacey says, grinning. “And I was right. Anywho, we’ve now established that you used to be a prostitute? But you are not anymore, yes?”

He notices the fact that she changes his wording: she goes from ‘whore’ to ‘prostitute’ and changes the tone that was applied as well. No, Brian’s not had any psychology classes in his time nor has he had therapy before, but he recognizes what she’s doing. Change the words, change the connotation. He swallows, answers her eventually, “No, I don’t prostitute anymore.”

“Though you brought up the subject before anything else, so am I safe in assuming your past bothers you?” she presses.

He nods, and then when she offers no further input, only looks at him expectantly, he relents. “I’ve tried to move past it. There is a lot that I’ve never… you know, never talked about. Some days are better than others, some days worse. There’ve just been a lot more ‘worse’ recently…”

He feels like he’s rambling, and he doesn’t really know how to explain over 10 years of his life to a stranger in an hour. He sighs, looking down at his hands, wringing them together nervously. Luckily Lacey throws him a lifeline, glancing through the questionnaire again.

“You seem to have done quite a bit to move forward with your life. You’re a student now and you’re working part-time, you’ve written here,” she says, gesturing to the paperwork in her hand. “You’re in what you have dubbed here a ‘committed relationship,’ which I assume means monogamous, correct me if I’m wrong.” Brian nods to confirm that yes, monogamous is a correct assumption. She nods back and continues, “And you’ve listed your significant other here, Zack, as your family. That tells me more than anything else on this paper does.”

He hadn’t thought about it that way when he’d filled the paper out, and now that she’s pointed this out his stomach twists up in knots. “He…” Brian starts, but can’t bring himself to finish. He doesn’t even know what he wants to say. _He is everything to me. He is all that I have. He deserves so much better than what little I have to offer._

“Whatever you’re thinking, say it. I can practically hear the gears turning in your head—just talk, you’re here to unburden yourself. Nothing you say is going to leave this room, you have my professional promise,” Lacey says, leaning toward him.

And she looks so sincere, so caring. Brian breathes in deep, steadying, and runs a hand over his face. Finally relents, “He is my world. And he… he deserves better than a fucking whore by his side.” Then an afterthought, “Sorry about the language.”

“It’s quite all right, I’ve heard worse,” she says, then smoothly continues. “How long has it been since you last prostituted?”

And Brian… Brian doesn’t know. When had Zack stopped being his client and started being his lover? Zack had only outright paid him a handful of times, but then Zack had kept a roof over his head, fed him, clothed him, given him much more after the actual monetary transactions had stopped. Hell, Zack still keeps a roof over his head, feeds him, clothes him, is putting money down for Brian to get his A.A., and has put Brian on his health insurance policy at work. Then there is Brian’s cell phone, the car, the car insurance—and yes Brian puts what little he makes at his part-time job towards the apartment’s rent and his school but still…

Fucking hell, he’s still a prostitute. Zack just happens to be his only client.

“What are you thinking?” Lacey asks, and Brian realizes he’s been quiet for too long. He looks up at her, and he must have a transparent expression on his face, because she gives him a gentle smile and says, “Tell me.”

He wants to snap at her, tell her not to smile at him like that. He’s not a child, and he’s not made of glass. He runs his hands over his face instead though, pressing down the instinct, and answers quietly, not quite sure if he’s ashamed or not. “Zack is a john. Was a john… I dunno.”

The only sign that she’s surprised is the slight raise of her eyebrows, which she quickly schools back into position. She shifts in her seat a bit, then says, “There are those tenses again. Is he a john, or was he a john?”

“I—I don’t know?!” he says, realizing it comes out just this side of hysterical. “He pays for everything! I mean not the actual, you know… sex. Not anymore. But he pays for everything that I wouldn’t be able to afford on my own. I help with what money I do make, but… Shit.”

“And he makes more money than you do?” Lacey asks.

“Yes,” he answers, sighing. Lacey nods.

“So he’s just the primary earner in your household,” she says logically, that gentle smile back on her face. Brian frowns, and she continues, “I know it can be a difficult concept when it comes to two men in a relationship as opposed to a man and a woman. Society likes to place gender roles on people, such as the man being the bread-winner. And I would imagine it to be difficult in your situation regardless. But think of it this way—if the roles were reversed, and you were bringing home more money than Zack, what would you do?”

“I would pay for whatever he wanted and needed,” Brian says, because this is an obvious and stupid question. But… “It’s not the same.”

“How not?” Lacey asks.

There’s so many things he wants to say but can’t. Sex is such a ridiculous thing to him now, something that he used to flaunt and sell casually, now something that the mention of has him tied in knots. He swallows, trying to come up with the right words. _I used to enjoy sex with him, now I’m just disgusted with myself the entire time… Most of the time I don’t want him to touch me, but I let him because I don’t know how to say ‘no’… I make him fuck me doggy-style and fake my pleasure, and I’m a good enough actor after all those years of street-work that he has no idea, at least I hope he has no idea…_

Instead, all he says is, “It’s just not.”

She watches him silently for a few moments, eyes scanning his face, before asking, “You want my advice?”

“That’s why I came here,” he says.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and say you probably don’t do this a lot,” she says. “So try saying ‘no’, and see where that gets you. It may help quell some of your doubts.”

~*~

It’s a daunting task, and he screws up on that very night.

He goes to the gym after seeing Lacey, and he comes home in baggy workout shorts and a tank-top, tired and sweaty and hair gone awry. For some reason this look always does something for Zack, and the man is up off the couch and prowling after him to the shower before Brian can get a word in edgewise.

And it’s moments like these that Brian feels like a damn dog for not wanting, when Zack sneaks up behind him in the shower, pulling Brian’s hands away so Zack can work the shampoo into Brian’s hair himself. He scratches blunt fingernails against Brian’s scalp and lays kisses along Brian’s shoulders, whispering sweet nothings in Brian’s ear with a husky, suggestive tone. Before, even at the beginning and rocky start of their relationship, this is the sort of attention that would have had Brian melting. It’s both affectionate and sexual all at once, and it would have that heat settling in his belly, his breath coming fast, his cock getting hard, all immediately.

Now though? He doesn’t feel anything except mild disgust with himself as he twists away from Zack, pausing long enough to grin seductively at his lover before dropping to his knees on the tile floor. He slides up close, pushing wet hair out of his face and glancing up into Zack’s green eyes. Zack smiles back at him, raking his fingers along Brian’s scalp, and so he takes Zack by the hip with one hand, the cock with the other, and goes down on him.

He makes sex noises and pretends to jerk off while he’s blowing Zack, because this is what he does now, this is his new normal. He doesn’t enjoy this, is mostly repulsed with himself over the whole ordeal, and he hasn’t even managed to get it up in a good month. So he moans especially loud when Zack comes, his theatrical way of saying he’s orgasming too even though he’s not. The water beating down from the showerhead makes it impossible to tell that he hasn’t ejaculated. All in all, it’s a good performance.

But then Zack reaches for him, murmuring that he could have waited, that Zack would have taken care of him in varied other filthy asides. Brian’s skin crawls, but he plays the game. He lets himself be pulled into an embrace, tells Zack that it’s okay, he was just so turned on, and he wanted to come.

It’s the same old broken record, same old song and dance. How many times have they done this in the past couple of months, Brian wonders? Zack knows that Brian is struggling with something, Brian can tell. It’s written in the way Zack looks at him, the narrowed green eyes, worried but not quite sure what to be worried about.

Brian just wants things to be back to normal. Brian wishes he’d had the balls to say ‘no’. But he gets his chance a couple nights after.

It’s the weekend, a normal and quiet Saturday like any other, but Zack is scheduled to work at the clinic. Brian has nowhere to be, no classes and no work, and while he wakes up when Zack’s alarm goes off at 6:00 AM, he doesn’t move to get out of bed. Zack flings a hand out groggily to silence the alarm and sits up in the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Brian watches him blearily, still bundled up in the sheets. Zack stands eventually, quietly padding through the dark to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him. The water in the shower turns on, and Brian lets his eyes slip shut again even if he doesn’t fall back asleep. Zack’s dog, Ichabod—their dog now, Brian supposes—cuddles up against Brian’s side once Zack is out of sight. He lays his hand on the animal’s back, lets his fingers slide through the soft fur, and tries not to think too hard about his life.

Zack stops by the bed before he leaves for work to run a hand over Brian’s side, kiss his cheek, and whisper ‘goodbye, love you’. Brian hums back in a tired monotone, reaching one hand up to gently pull at his scrub top, and once Zack turns away, murmurs, “Be safe. Love you.”

Because even with everything—as bad as he feels, as confused as he is, as filthy as everything seems—Zack is his world, and Brian loves him.

There’s nothing on Brian’s schedule for the day, so he sleeps in much later than he should, then busies himself with simple mundane chores around the apartment. He catches up on all the laundry, dusts, and runs the vacuum. The bathroom needs to be cleaned too, the toilet and shower and sinks scrubbed, but he pretends he doesn’t have time for that. He still needs time to take Ichabod for a walk, after all. And to go work out.

And it’s just like last time when Brian gets home from working out. Zack is already home, though he obviously hasn’t been for long. He’s still in his scrubs from work, tiredly filling Ichabod’s dish with dog chow, though he perks up when Brian comes through the door. His eyes rake over Brian hungrily—Brian in his sweaty work-out clothes, hair a wild mess, generally wholly disgusting—and for a moment Brian wants to let loose on him. Squall and scream, tell Zack how he really feels, or at least how he really feels about the sex; tell him that sometimes he just feels like a fucking cumdump, and tell the son of a bitch to pay him upfront because this crap is getting old.

But then Zack’s expression softens, and he smiles at Brian, greets him simply, “Hey, babe.”

And Brian loves the word ‘babe’. No one has ever called him ‘babe’, no one else besides Zack. He’s been called a lot of other things in his day—whore, slut, cockslut, cumguzzler, and the list goes on… But no one ever called him ‘babe’, not until Zack.

The fight in him dies, and Brian grins back, answers, “Hey, you.”

Once he heads for the bathroom, though, Zack is on his tail. Brian panics, because he doesn’t want this, he doesn’t want to have sex, but he doesn’t know how to say ‘no’. Especially because they’ll end up in the shower again like last time, both naked, and then what? Zack will start touching him, and want him, and what is Brian supposed to do?

Brian turns the shower on, adjusting the knobs, then stands back to undress. Zack has already taken his scrubs off and is standing behind him in just his boxer-briefs and an old, stained t-shirt. Brian swallows thickly, grabbing the hem of his tank and pulling it over his head.

“You okay?” Zack asks suddenly. Brian glances back at him to find the man watching him with a frown. Fuck, Brian thinks, he must have been exuding nervous energy, or had a stupid look on his face, or something…

He starts to shrug Zack off, then realizes that this is his chance. This is his chance to say he doesn’t feel like sex tonight, and then he won’t have to pretend. Or at least, hopefully things will work out okay. Hopefully Zack won’t be angry. He frets his hands together for a moment, unsure.

“Babe?” Zack presses.

Yes, Brian thinks then. _I am his ‘babe’, I’ll be okay._ He takes a breath, and steps out on a limb. “I’m just not feeling very well. I think I overdid it at the gym,” he lies smoothly.

Zack frowns, then says, “Be careful, don’t push yourself too hard. You’ll end up doing more harm than good.”

“I know,” Brian answers, feeling slightly chastised even though he didn’t overdo anything.

Zack reaches a hand up and strokes his palm along Brian’s cheek, then kisses him gently. “Come on, get in the shower,” he says. “We’ll wash up, then we can just relax for the rest of the night, hopefully you’ll feel better. You work tomorrow?”

“I-I…” Brian starts, slightly shocked when Zack steps back and continues to undress, shirt gone and then underwear too. He thought he’d said… but maybe that’s not allowed. Maybe he’s not supposed to refuse. He doesn’t know. Finally, he answers the question that was asked, “Yes, I work tomorrow. But not until the afternoon.”

“Then you can sleep in tomorrow morning, good,” Zack says, turning his back to Brian to check the water in the shower. He fiddles with the knobs for a moment before seeming to deem it acceptable and stepping under the showerhead. Brian watches the water run over his body, watches the way it makes his tattoos vibrant, watches the way it makes his skin look smooth and inviting. He knows it should be sexually stimulating, knows he should be aroused watching his lover like this.

But the fact remains: he’s mostly just anxious, tired, and flaccid.

Zack turns to look at him, seeming to realize that he hasn’t made it into the shower, or even finished taking his clothes off. “You going to get in here?” Zack asks, and Brian honestly doesn’t know how to answer. But then Zack adds playfully, “You’re taking a shower before you lie down in our bed, I don’t care if I have to wash you myself. You’re not getting gym-stink all over the sheets.”

Brian huffs, says, “I don’t smell!” Then amends when Zack gives him a look, “Okay, I don’t smell that much.” So he relents, pulling off his gym shorts and his boxers, then shuffling into the shower with Zack.

And while he still isn’t sure what to expect, doesn’t know if Zack truly understands what Brian was trying to say, the shower turns out to be a good—no, a great experience. Zack tells him about his day at the clinic as they take turns under the showerhead, about the particularly fun and crazy patients that Brian always finds entertaining. They wash each other’s backs as is par for the course, and Zack gives him a quick shoulder massage, saying he feels tense.

Zack is half-hard through the whole shower, and Brian feels guilty for not even wanting, for being completely unaffected by their intimacy and proximity. Zack does not ask, though. He doesn’t pressure, doesn’t suggest, doesn’t hint, doesn’t so much as brush his cock against Brian’s thigh. It’s telling, and Brian can only think of Lacey’s words: See where that gets you. It may help quell some of your doubts.

It’s definitely done something, Brian thinks later that night, curled up on the couch next to Zack watching a Netflix movie. He’s tired now, very tired, more tired than he’d realized. He yawns, leaning sideways to rest his head against Zack’s shoulder, something that he hasn’t done in a while but suddenly wants to do. Though if Zack is surprised by the cuddling, the sudden change in demeanor, he doesn’t show it. He just shifts a bit on the couch to accommodate the new position, and rests his hand on Brian’s flank.

“If I fall asleep and start squishing you, wake me up,” Brian tells him, because he really is tired, and the chances of him falling asleep here like this are high. Zack’s body is warm, and his rhythmic breathing is calming.

“You won’t squish me, I’ll wake you up when I go to bed,” Zack answers. Brian goes to argue, but then Zack moves his hand, starts lazily playing with Brian’s hair.

Brian closes his eyes, and drifts.

~*~

The week passes strangely fast. There’s work, and school. Netflix and video games on the couch with Zack. They meet Matt and Val at the movies one night for a double date of sorts. Life passes by as it tends to do.

They don’t have sex. Zack tries to initiate again the next night, after they didn’t have shower sex because Brian ‘wasn’t feeling well’. Brian quietly panics, unprepared, and pulls out the very unoriginal headache excuse. After that, Zack doesn’t try to initiate sex again, obviously catching onto the fact that something is awry. It’s glaringly apparent really.

Brian doesn’t think they’ve gone a whole week without having some sort of sexual intimacy since he’s known the man. Even when life was crazy and getting in the way of their time together, they still seemed to manage a couple of quick handjobs under the sheets at night.

But Brian has gone the entire week without feeling like he has to have sex—and without wanting, without being aroused, without even thinking about Zack that way. He worries about Zack and their relationship together, yes, but it’s freeing to not feel pressured, and he’s unprepared for anything to change.

Brian has to close at the coffee shop that Thursday night, which means he doesn’t end up coming home until a little after ten. Sometimes Zack will already be getting ready for bed when Brian comes home that late, at least when Zack has to wake up early for work the next morning. This Thursday is no different—when he comes home, he finds Zack propped up in bed with a book in his hands and Ichabod by his side, glasses perched on the bridge of his nose, shirtless, a pair of loose boxers on.

Between the way he’s lying in the bed and the fit of the boxers, Brian can see the impression of his cock against his thigh. Brian swallows, suddenly feeling hot, flushed. It’s a familiar feeling, though one he hasn’t experienced in a while. He tries to ignore it.

Zack looks up as he enters the bedroom, smiles, and puts the book aside on the bedside table. “Hey, babe,” Zack says, reaching his arms up and stretching. The movement makes his cock even more noticeable.

“Hey,” Brian says, rooted at the foot of the bed. He tries not to look, tries not to think, realizes he’s already sunk.

“I was just about to brush my teeth and hit the…” Zack starts, though trails off as he notices the way Brian is looking at him. “What?” Zack asks, then glances down at his lap where Brian is staring. He tries to reposition himself in his boxers, and that does Brian in.

He climbs up onto the bed with Zack, still in his white t-shirt and black pants from work, and crawls over him, reaching for his face, his shoulders, his chest. Brian wants, he _wants_ —he wants skin, he wants warmth, he wants Zack’s mouth, Zack’s tongue, Zack’s cock…

His cock is hard inside his pants, and as he settles over Zack on the bed, pressing their lips together, he feels Zack sneak a hand between them to palm his crotch, almost like he’s checking. Brian breathes out into their kiss, the pressure of Zack’s hand good and right, and Zack pulls away to kiss along his jawline, then murmurs, “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

And that breaks Brian’s heart. “I’ve been right here,” he tells him, letting himself roll to his side on the bed, and Zack follows him.

Zack pulls him into the kiss again, deep and thorough, all but fucking his mouth with his tongue. Finally, he pulls back and murmurs, “You know what I mean.”

And Brian does know what he means. He swallows heavily as Zack moves his mouth to Brian’s throat, his hands going to Brian’s belt, then his flies. “I’m sorry,” he answers, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

Zack just shakes his head, and wrestles Brian’s pants and underwear down his hips. Brian finishes kicking them the rest of the way off, and pulls his shirt over his head while he’s at it. His cock is thick and heavy, and it feels good to be free of the confines of the pants. Zack gently pushes him onto his back, then settles down between Brian’s spread legs.

For a moment, Brian feels too vulnerable, too exposed. His cock, balls, and asshole are all set on display like this, something that used to be normal, even a turn-on. Now though, he wants to close his legs and hide himself. But then Zack runs his hands slowly up Brian’s thighs to settle on his hips, circles his thumbs around Brian’s hipbones. He leans down, his breath ghosting against Brian’s cock, then presses a chaste, closed-mouthed kiss to his cockhead. Brian sighs, letting his eyes slip shut for a second.

“Mmm, I want your cock,” Zack says huskily, his breath warm against Brian’s cockhead. Brian groans despite himself, despite his lingering hesitations. Zack takes him in his hand, pumps him from root to tip once, then again, then says, “I want to suck you off. I want you to come in my mouth. I want to taste you…”

“Fuck,” Brian mumbles, reaching to run his fingers through Zack’s short-cropped hair. Zack hums in reply, green eyes staring up at him, and Brian suddenly realizes that he’s waiting for the go-ahead. His heart aches with both love and guilt, and he nods, says, “Yes. Please.”

Zack smiles, then goes down on him. His mouth is warm and wet, and his tongue swirls deliciously around the underside of Brian’s cockhead. It’s intensely pleasurable and wonderfully familiar all at once. Brian groans, toes curling into the mattress, and continues to rake his fingers through Zack’s hair.

He doesn’t last long—whether it’s because of the passion of the moment, or the fact that it’s been a week since he’s been with Zack, much longer since he’s been with Zack and actually come, he doesn’t know. But he orgasms hard, his head thrown back against the sheets, fingers twisting involuntarily in Zack’s hair, and grunts out his pleasure as discreetly as possible.

Zack swallows him all down greedily, then licks and sucks him through the aftershocks. Zack finishes him with one last kiss to the tip of his cock, then slides up his body so they are face to face, eye to eye. Brian can feel Zack’s cock still inside his boxers, hard and hot, so Brian reaches down to play with the waistband of his underwear. Zack dips his head to kiss his lips, and Brian can taste himself on Zack’s tongue.

“You can…” Brian starts after a moment, breaking away from the kiss. “You can fuck me, if you want.”

Zack nuzzles Brian cheek, and asks, “Do you want me to? Or are you just allowing me to?”

 _Fuck_ , Brian thinks absently, because Zack understands way too much, far more than Brian thought. “I—I want you to come,” Brian answers honestly.

Zack pulls him into one last kiss, then grabs his hips, pulling, encouraging him to turn over. Brian obliges, grabbing a pillow as he goes to stuff under his hips. He assumes Zack is going to fuck him, especially when Zack runs his hands down the small of Brian’s back and over his ass, then moves away to reach for the nightstand, to open the drawer where they keep the KY.

But then Brian feels the cool lubricant get slicked over the small of his back, then his ass, on his asscheeks and along the crack of his ass. He frowns, raising up on his elbows to look back over his shoulder, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Just lie down and relax,” Zack tells him, then seemingly catching himself. “Tell me if you want me to stop. I will.”

 _He understands way too much_ , Brian thinks again, lying back down as he was told. He feels Zack settle down over him, his cock snugged up against the crack of his ass, and Brian realizes what he intends to do. He’s suddenly grateful—he’d rather Zack do this, just rub against him, as opposed to actually penetrate him.

Zack thrusts against his ass, his cock sliding between his asscheeks and against the small of his back, and Brian relaxes in the bed, closing his eyes after a moment, just feeling. Zack kisses his shoulderblades, and breathes heavy against the back of Brian’s neck. Zack is close—he was close when he first started rubbing against him. He’s sexually frustrated from lack of sex and already very turned on from giving Brian head—Brian knows him well enough to see the signs.

Zack finishes with a groan, hips stuttering against Brian’s ass, and Brian can feel the first hot spurt of cum across his back. It’s hot as fuck, Brian can recognize that, but his cock doesn’t even stir. This reaction bothers him maybe more than it should.

Zack gives him one last lingering kiss against his shoulder, then rolls away from him and off of the bed. Brian listens to his padding footfalls as he goes into the bathroom, listens to the water running, listens as Zack comes back. The bed dips once Zack leans back into it, and Brian feels him rub a wet washcloth across his ass and up his back, starting to clean him up.

“You need it for around front?” Zack asks once he’s done, and Brian isn’t sure what he means at first. Zack had swallowed, then sucked and licked him clean, there’s certainly nothing he needs a washcloth for. Then he realizes Zack thinks he’d had a second orgasm while Zack was rutting against him. Before, he probably would have thrust against the pillow underneath himself until he came again, that would have been fairly par for the course.

Things are different now, though, and he’s slightly embarrassed to have to answer Zack with, “No. I’m okay.”

“Oh. Okay,” Zack answers, obviously brought up short for a moment, before turning back to the bathroom. Brian listens, listens to him brush his teeth and take a piss in the toilet. He comes back soon enough, curling up in bed next to Brian still naked, laying a hand on Brian’s back.

“I’m sorry I kept you up late,” Brian murmurs, glancing at the clock. It’s well after eleven. Brian pulls the pillow out from under his hips and begins to make his nest in the bed.

“Don’t apologize,” Zack tells him tiredly, fingers trailing over his side affectionately. “You can keep me up any night you want to.”

Brian chuckles absently, and tries to sleep as Zack drifts off.

~*~

Zack’s alarm goes off the next morning far too early, and both men groan at the loud noise. Zack silences the alarm, then shuffles off to the bathroom to shower and get dressed. Brian closes his eyes and dozes once things are quiet again.

He’s woken again a bit later once Zack comes by the bed to say his customary good-byes. Zack has Ichabod in his arms, and he plops the dog down on the bed next to Brian, then reaches over to kiss Brian on the forehead. Brian waits for the usual ‘bye, love you’, but instead he gets a complex frown from Zack, then the man sitting down on the bed next to him.

Brian swallows nervously, and asks, “What?”

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Zack says. “And I don’t know how to say this. But I’m concerned, so I’m just going to ask…”

Despite his words, he trails off and doesn’t ask. Brian bites his lip, and repeats, “What?”

“Are you…?” Zack starts, obviously picking and choosing his words. Brian watches him warily. “Are you having problems? Sexual problems?”

“What the hell?” Brian snaps, sitting up in the bed, indignant even if Zack has pegged him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“I just noticed that maybe you’ve been having some… problems,” Zack repeats, tripping over his words. Then, when Brian only stares at him with a stern glare, “For fuck’s sake, you’re pissed off enough right now. Don’t make me actually say what’s going on—you’ll lose your shit.”

“Just because,” Brian starts, his gut instinct being to defend himself. “Just because I didn’t come twice last night doesn’t mean I’m having ‘problems’.”

“That’s not…” Zack says, then sighs, frustrated. “That’s not even what I was thinking about—I mean, that was different for you. You usually can come multiple times.”

“I just didn’t,” Brian snaps. “I was tired.”

“There was a couple of times a while ago that I can remember,” Zack says, and Brian already knows where he’s going. “You didn’t have a hard-on, and were just kind of faking it. Then you went through this period where you wouldn’t let me touch you—at least not your cock. Last night was the first time in over a month…”

Zack trails off, and Brian dreads where this is going to go. Zack is going to want to have a long involved conversation about his feelings, and Brian just can’t do that, not right now. He’s not ready for that yet.

“I just want you to know that you shouldn’t be ashamed—that it’s okay, it happens, it’s not a big deal,” Zack says, which brings Brian up short. _He doesn’t want to talk about all my emotional problems?_ Brian thinks, confused. Then Zack continues, “It’s probably just stress—and some performance anxiety at this point—but I am going to be adamant about one thing for your own sake. If you’re still having problems getting an erection in a month or so, you’re going to the doctor. Because it could be a sign of something more serious.”

“If I’m still having a problem getting an erection?” Brian parrots, suddenly realizing Zack doesn’t actually understand how fucked up Brian is right now. Or well he thinks he’s stressed, or has ‘performance anxiety’, or some such. But he doesn’t want to have some in-depth conversation about feelings, for which Brian is insanely thankful. Let the man think he has erectile dysfunction if it will keep him occupied for now.

Except Brian suddenly realizes that he maybe does have erectile dysfunction, because isn’t the inability to become aroused the definition of erectile dysfunction? Shit, now he has something else to fret over.

“Yeah,” Zack answers him, finally standing from the bed. He runs his fingers through Brian’s hair one last time before stepping away. “It’s probably nothing but stress, like I said. So don’t worry about it. And don’t stress over it in general—it’s no biggie!”

“O-Okay,” Brian manages, suddenly embarrassed, but Zack is already out the bedroom door and out of sight. Apparently the conversation is over. Ichabod rolls over in the bed next to him, presenting his belly to be rubbed. Brian sighs, then gives in.

"Bye, love you!" Zack calls out from the living room, before Brian hears the front door open and shut. Brian sighs.

At least he has his second therapy session later that day...


	2. Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~But Lacey’s been right about so much else—and Brian inherently knows she’s right about it being good and healthy to want Zack.~

“So, it’s been a little over a week since we spoke last,” Lacey begins, sitting cross-legged in her armchair. She’s dressed plainly yet professionally, grey slacks and a button-down blouse. She opens her notes from last session and starts glancing through as she continues, “How have you been?”  
  
“Fine, I guess,” Brian says. His mind is running around in circles, from the awkward and worrying conversation from the morning, to the sex last night, the first time he’s had any kind of decent sex in months. He sighs, looking away from her, staring instead unseeingly at the generic landscape painting hung on the wall.  
  
“You guess?” Lacey mimics. “That’s not very convincing.”  
  
“I…” Brian starts, but then falls short, finishing with, “don’t know.”  
  
Lacey nods, seemingly unperturbed. “That’s alright. Let’s make it simpler,” she says. “Just give me one or two words to describe how you’re feeling right now.”  
  
Fucking feelings, Brian thinks. “I’m not good at talking about this,” he tells her. “You know, about _feelings_.”  
  
She gives him a wry grin, and says, “That’s why we’re keeping this simple. Just one or two words, that’s all I’m asking for.”  
  
So Brian thinks for a minute, finally settles on, “Confused.”  
  
“Okay,” Lacey says, making note of this on her papers. “Confused about anything in particular?”  
  
“Everything,” Brian answers truthfully. Lacey gives him an understanding smile.  
  
“Let’s start somewhere,” Lacey says. “Tell me one thing you’re confused about.”  
  
Brian bites his lips, finally answers, “Zack.” Then clarifies, “My relationship with Zack.”  
  
“I see,” Lacey says with a nod, looking through the paperwork in her hands. “Well, we talked last time about some of the doubts you were experiencing in your relationship, and what you could do to maybe help yourself feel better about things. So, how did things go this past week?”  
  
Brian frowns, not really knowing how to answer. “Okay, I guess,” he answers eventually.  
  
“Try to give me more than that,” Lacey says, smiling encouragingly. “Did you try my advice?”  
  
“You mean, did I refuse him sex?” Brian asks bluntly, suddenly annoyed by the fact that she’s staying so vague about it, trying to force him to fill in the blanks. She doesn’t bat an eye though, just watches him expectantly for an answer, and his irritation fades to awkwardness. “I—Yes, I mean, I just told him I wasn’t feeling well. Like, lied. Then he stopped asking.”  
  
He’s rambling again he realizes. Lacey just nods though, asks, “Did that make you feel any better? That he doesn’t expect you to engage in sex when you don’t feel like it?”  
  
“Uhm… I don’t know,” Brian says, unsure. Maybe it would have, had things turned out differently. Their conversation from that morning plays in the back of his mind. _The only reason he doesn’t care is because he thinks I’m incapable right now_ , Brian thinks. Finally spits aloud, “He thinks I have ED.”  
  
She blinks at him, then frowns. “Why would he think that?”  
  
“Because…” Brian says, biting his lip. He feels like he’s probably blushing, his face is hot. “Don’t make me say it,” he finally begs.  
  
“Have you been having difficulty becoming physically aroused?” she asks.  
  
“Fucking fancy words,” he grumbles, looking at the floor. Then, “I thought about it last time I was here, during our first session. I didn’t say anything, I dunno. It’s embarrassing.”  
  
“How long have you been experiencing this issue?” Lacey questions, beginning to write on her notepad.  
  
Brian groans. “Of-fucking-course you have to write this down,” he says with a sigh. Lacey grins wryly, not looking up from her notes. Finally, he answers her question, “About a month, or a little over a month.”  
  
“And your sex life before that was…?” she asks expectantly.  
  
“Uh, good?” he answers, chuckling. She rolls her eyes, but her smile doesn’t fade.  
  
“You love one word answers, don’t you? I should have never given you the one-word option,” she says. Then, “You haven’t experienced this problem with him before?”  
  
“No, not at all,” Brian answers, thinks, _I rarely had this problem with anyone else, even disgusting johns._  
  
“And you would consider your sex life with him to be healthy? Before now, of course,” she presses.  
  
“Uhm, I guess?” he answers. “I mean, he was my john. Is that healthy?”  
  
“Does he still treat you like a prostitute?” Lacey counters.  
  
“No,” Brian says without hesitation, the easiest question he’s answered today. “He never treated me like a whore. I mean, not really, besides the money… But he always treated me respectfully, always took care of me, never hurt me.”  
  
She smiles at him softly, a little sadly. Brian figures everything he just said was very telling of what his life used to be like. “Alright then, I would be worried if the answer was ‘yes’, but since it’s not, let me rephrase the original question,” she says, plowing on. “Were you happy with your sex life with him? Were you happy with how often you had sex, how intimate you both were, how pleasurable the sex was?”  
  
“How pleasurable the sex was?” Brian asks, choking on a laugh.  
  
She raises an eyebrow at him, says, “Standard, reasonable question.”  
  
“For fuck’s sake,” he says, running a hand over his face. “Yes, yes, yes to all of the above. He started seeing me in the first place for sex—and if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s sex. Even when I can’t get a boner, I’m still good at it.”  
  
She doesn’t even blink at the filth rolling out of his mouth, instead says, “Maybe. But your partner still noticed that something was wrong.”  
  
Brian doesn’t bother answering her since she already has the right of it. He just shrugs, staring intently at the carpet between his shoes.  
  
“What exactly happened?” Lacey asks eventually. “Did Zack ask you if something was wrong? Did you tell him what was happening?”  
  
“He talked to me about it this morning,” Brian says with a sigh. “I guess after last night he…” He trails off, realizing he doesn’t really want to talk about last night. But then…  
  
“What happened last night?” Lacey asks of course. Brian mentally groans.  
  
“I—I had gone the whole week without him touching me, and then last night,” he starts, and then can’t finish. He’s not telling this woman about what a fucking slut he is. “Nevermind, it’s not a big deal…”  
  
“What happened?” she repeats, a little sterner.  
  
Brian bites his lip, and starts up again. “I got home from work late, and he’s lying there in the fucking bed reading a fucking book,” he says, suddenly angry at Zack for being so fucking attractive. If he hadn’t been lying there in the bed with his fucking tattoos and his fucking boxers and his fucking peak-a-boo cock, none of this would have happened.  
  
“And that made you… upset?” Lacey tries, frowning a bit. “Or angry? Sad? Give me something here, Brian.”  
  
“It turned me on, okay?” he snaps. “He’s fucking lying there in the fucking bed, and I just lose my shit and crawl all over him like some cum-starved whore…”  
  
“Okay, hold up,” she says, cutting him off. He scowls at her, but she doesn’t pay his glare any mind. “Being physically attracted to your lover—the man you’re in a monogamous, committed relationship with—does _not_ equate to being any type of ‘whore’,” she says. She leans toward him in her chair, face serious and earnest. “Wanting to have sex with your lover does _not_ equate to being any type of whore. In fact, wanting to have sex with your lover—and having sex with your lover—these are both good, healthy, normal things.”  
  
“It doesn’t always feel that way,” Brian mumbles quietly, picking at a hole in his jeans.  
  
Lacey nods, asks, “You were physically aroused, right?” Brian nods, blushing. “So you wanted it, and did your partner want it as well?” And well, Zack had seemed into it enough, so Brian nods. Lacey continues, “So you had consensual sex with your partner; that is something good and healthy, especially considering everything else you’ve been experiencing as of late. Maybe it doesn’t feel like it, but know that it is. Know that sometimes how you feel is a result of past emotional trauma, not the actual circumstance.”  
  
Brian sighs, rubbing at his temple. He feels a headache coming on. Lacey’s quiet for a while, as if waiting for him to say something, but when he doesn’t she moves on.  
  
“What exactly did Zack say?” Lacey asks. “You said he spoke to you this morning.”  
  
“He just said that he’d noticed,” Brian says quietly. “And that it was okay.”  
  
“It was okay?” Lacey asks for clarification.  
  
“Yeah, he said not to worry,” Brian says, vaguely mortified. He bites at a fingernail, then continues. “He said he’d make me go to the doctor if I didn’t get better, or whatever. But he said it was probably stress.”  
  
“Make you go to the doctor?” Lacey parrots.  
  
“Yeah, Zack’s a nurse practitioner. ARNP. He tends to stay on top of me as far as my health is concerned,” Brian says, bites his lip. “It’s okay though, I don’t mind.” _It’s nice to be taken care of._  
  
Lacey nods. “I have to agree with him that it’s probably stress, especially considering everything you’ve told me,” she says. Then, “Did you talk to him about anything you’ve been feeling? About feeling bad for wanting him?”  
  
“No,” Brian says simply, because he can’t talk to Zack about that. How is he supposed to tell Zack that their sex life has become a major source of anxiety and guilt for him? He can’t do it. It’s mortifying, and it would just upset the man.  
  
“My advice?” Lacey says. “Try broaching that subject.”  
  
“I can’t,” Brian says, wringing his hands together. Just the thought alone has him tied in knots.  
  
“Just try…” Lacey says. Then, when Brian doesn’t answer, “And in the meantime, don’t pressure yourself in the bedroom. Go slow, try being more sensual as opposed to sexual, it will help with your nerves.”  
  
“Okay,” Brian answers, still staring at the carpet. He finds he can’t look her in the eye.  
  
“Just remember last night,” she says with a little wry smile. “It _can_ happen, so just relax and let it. And if it doesn’t, then don’t sweat it. If your partner’s an ARNP, though, he probably already knows all of this.”  
  
“Why would he…?” Brian begins, before trailing off, already figuring it out. It hadn’t occurred to him before.  
  
Lacey answers him anyway. “He should have had at least one semester of sexual health,” she says, then chuckles. “And that was one class no one seemed to sleep through.”  
  
~*~  
  
As it turns out, Lacey’s right about a lot of things. She’s right about not pressuring himself about the sex—while reminding himself to stay relaxed is easier said than done, it does work. And she’s seemingly right about Zack knowing how to handle his ‘problem’—he doesn’t push Brian to have sex, doesn’t try to initiate. But he is undeniably sweet and sensual, pets Brian’s hair and leaves soft touches across his shoulders and chest. It does nothing for the most part, except make feel Brian something between love and guilt, but then one evening the soft touches turn into a massage.  
  
And Lacey was right about this too, about just relaxing and letting it happen. Zack has him on the bed, Brian on his belly with his head on a pillow, Zack’s hands working into the muscles along his back. It feels good, soothing and calming, and he finds himself caught up in the feel of Zack touching his bare skin, the smell of Zack’s body so close to him, and the heat of the man’s thigh against his side. He can feel himself getting hard, his cock uncomfortable underneath him, and he wiggles his hips to try to rearrange himself.  
  
Zack lets his hands wander from his lower back down to his ass once Brian has settled back down, squeezing his cheeks gently. Brian can’t help but exhale sharply, feeling sexy and shameful all at once. But Lacey’s been right about so much else—and Brian inherently knows she’s right about it being good and healthy to want Zack, to be intimate with Zack.  
  
Brian wiggles his hips again absently, rubbing against the mattress. Zack lets his hands slide down the back of Brian’s thigh, then back up to his ass, and murmurs, “You feeling good?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says quietly. He feels Zack grab his hips and pull, encouraging him to move to his knees. Brian obliges, pulling his legs underneath himself and lifting his ass in the air, keeping his head laid down on the pillow. He feels exposed, vulnerable, and for a moment he’s afraid he’s going to lose his hard-on, but then Zack sneaks a hand around his hip and wraps his hand around Brian’s cock.  
  
“Mmm, Brian,” Zack murmurs, stroking him slowly. Brian breathes in, rocking his hips involuntarily. “I love your body,” Zack says, letting his free hand run over Brian’s flank. “Love you—love all of you. I wanna make love to you…”  
  
 _You don’t fucking make love to whores, you fuck them until they bleed_ , Brian thinks, irritated, then reminds himself to relax. Good, healthy, and normal, he reminds himself. “Love you… so much,” Brian says, though it comes out rough, breathy. He sounds aroused, even to his own ears. He swallows, says, “Fuck me. Please.”  
  
Zack kisses a trail from his tailbone up his spine to the back of his neck, before reaching for the KY in the nightstand. Brian shivers at the attention, spreading his legs a bit as Zack settles back in place between his thighs. “Just relax, babe,” Zack says, running one hand lightly across an asscheek, spreading him, then pressing one warm slick finger inside.  
  
It’s been a couple of weeks since they’ve had intercourse, and as Zack slides a second finger inside and begins to stretch him, it’s like scratching an itch Brian didn’t even know he had. It’s more uncomfortable than Brian is used to, but they usually have intercourse regularly. Like several times a week, regularly. Maybe too regularly, Brian wonders suddenly.  
  
But he has to relax, just let it happen, he’s thinking too much. He takes a deep breath, pressing his face into the pillow, and reaches a hand down to stroke himself. Zack murmurs sexy talk to him, telling him how hot he is, how much he loves him, how he wants to make him feel good… Finally, he slides his fingers out of Brian’s ass, and Brian can hear the wet sound of Zack slicking himself up. He breathes deep, closing his eyes, unsure whether he’s eager or anxious.  
  
Zack’s hands run over his sides, then grip his hips firmly. Brian feels Zack’s cock bump against his ass, and he tenses then relaxes his asshole despite himself. Zack curses quietly, lining himself up, and pressing into him. “You okay?” Zack asks, and Brian shivers.  
  
“Yes,” Brian says. “Please… _Please._ ”  
  
Zack fucks him slow and thorough at first, with long deep thrusts that make Brian feel so full and complete. He presses his face into the pillow to muffle his groans of pleasure as Zack picks up the pace, the man’s fingers digging into his hips, pulling Brian’s body back to him with each push forward. Zack’s cock presses against his prostate with each heavy thrust, and Zack’s balls slap against his skin, and Brian jerks himself in rhythm, his breathing heavy.  
  
Zack lets go of his hips to lean down over him, his hands splayed out on either side of Brian’s shoulders, and Brian can feel his hot breath against the back of his neck, shudders as his lips trail over his shoulder blade. Zack sucks and licks at the skin, and Brian’s vaguely aware he’s going to have a hickey come morning. At that moment, though, he doesn’t care. And fuck, he’s close, he’s so close.  
  
And Zack knows his body, knows the signs—knows the way he’s tensing and relaxing, knows the intermittent way he’s stroking himself, knows the noises he’s making even if they are muffled in the pillow. “Come on, babe,” he murmurs against the back of Brian’s neck. “You close? Come on, come for me…”  
  
And fuck, those words do him in. He jerks himself hard and fast, the edge there and then gone. He spills over his own hand, grunting his release into the pillow, body thrumming. He’s absently aware of Zack pulling him closer, his thrusts going shallow, and the man’s low moan against his shoulder when comes as well.  
  
Brian breathes heavy afterward, his face pushed into the pillow, trying not to think too hard, tying not to let that guilt and disgust creep up into his chest. He tries to focus on how comfortable and sated he feels at that moment, focus on Zack’s warm body, on the sudden stillness in the room. Zack pulls out, and gently turns Brian over on his back, smiling down at his lover once they are face to face. He presses a quick hot kiss to his lips, then slides down his body, spreading his legs and tilting his hips back.  
  
And Brian knows what Zack is about to do—he’s done this before, but not in a long time. Brian had always enjoyed it, had found it so incredibly intimate, but suddenly as Zack settles down between his thighs Brian is both appalled and mortified. He wants to close his thighs and push Zack away, but he’s not good at saying no, not good at closing his legs.  
  
Brian shuts he eyes and lays his arm across his face as Zack dips his head down between his legs. He tries to keep his breathing steady as Zack flattens his tongue and runs it up across his ass, then presses against him where he’s already loose and slick from being fucked. Brian can feel him licking and sucking his asshole, felching. Brian moves his arm, runs his hand over his face, then pulls at his hair.  
  
Zack pulls back, gently pushing Brian’s legs closed. He has dirty come smeared on his bottom lip, and Brian has to keep himself from cringing. Zack licks his lips, frowns, and asks, “Are you okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian lies, forcing a smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”  
  
He gets up and goes into the bathroom once Zack has settled down. He looks at himself in the mirror, looks at his mussed up hair and tired brown eyes, turns himself and looks over his shoulder at the love-bite on his shoulder blade. He thinks about Zack, thinks about his mouth and his tongue, and wants to vomit.  
  
It’s not as though he doesn’t clean himself well—he showers at least once if not twice daily, but he’s never used any sort of enema. It’s something Zack has never asked him to do and something that has never really crossed his mind. Until now…  
  
He goes back to bed with his skin crawling, silently reciting his new mantra he’d learned at therapy. _Good, healthy, and normal… It’s good, healthy, and normal._  
  
~*~  
  
Brian asks Zack the next night once the man comes home from work. They’re sitting on the couch watching reruns and eating leftovers, and maybe discussing felching while eating dinner isn’t the best of choices. But then again Zack never shied away from blood and guts as dinner-table conversation, so Brian figures he’s probably okay.  
  
“Have you ever wanted me to, you know…?” Brian starts, but then of course Zack doesn’t know, Zack has no idea what Brian has been thinking about. Zack glances over at him from the TV, and Brian bites his lip, finally forces out, “To use an enema?”  
  
Zack pauses in his chewing, looking honestly confused, and asks, “Why?”  
  
“For, you know,” Brian says, and he’s beginning to realize that ‘you know’ is becoming his new favorite phrase. He finishes, frustrated, “For sex, Zack, for sex. What else?”  
  
“’Cause, I dunno, you’re constipated?” Zack says, wearing that shit-eating grin he gets when he’s being an ass. Brian sighs, exasperated, and kicks him in the shin. Zack kicks back playfully, then says, “Are you serious?”  
  
“Yes, I’m serious,” Brian snaps, starting to get annoyed.  
  
Zack ignores his tone, instead says, “I wouldn’t ask you to do that, no. It’s not the most comfortable of experiences, from what I’ve been told.” Brian can’t tell whether he’s speaking from medical experience, or whether he’s trying to cover and is speaking from personal experience with his past lover. Regardless, Zack continues, “And it doesn’t even matter, really. I mean, it’s anal sex, it’s not exactly going to be clean and pretty. I’m not expecting it to be.”  
  
Brian supposes he’s right. He shrugs, pushing the food around on his plate, suddenly not hungry.  
  
“Why, did you want to use one?” Zack asks. Brian’s taken aback, not quite prepared to answer that question. “It’s your body, I’m not going to tell you not to. I can pick one up from the clinic and…”  
  
“No,” Brian decides suddenly. “No, I-- No.”  
  
“Oh, okay,” Zack says, eyeing him dubiously. Brian nods, going back to playing with his food. Eventually Zack asks, “Everything okay, babe?”  
  
He thinks about telling him. Really thinks about it for a brief moment. Then lies smoothly, “Yes, of course.”  
  
Zack doesn’t buy it, Brian can see that much in the look of his green eyes. So Brian just smiles at him, puts on a front, and goes back to playing with his dinner.  
  
~*~  
  
It’s the first thing he brings up at therapy, even before Lacey can ask him how his week has been. He doesn’t want to talk about it really, not about his sex life, not anymore. It feels like that’s all they’ve talked about. But it’s been preying on his mind, scratching claws up and down his spine. He has to talk to someone, he has to _know_.  
  
“Is there anything that’s totally wrong that you just shouldn’t do?” he asks her, fretting his hands together. “You know, as far as sex goes…”  
  
Lacey is silent for a moment before prompting, “Did you have something specific in mind?”  
  
Of course, Brian thinks. “I just—want to know,” he manages, trying not to fidget too nervously.  
  
“Well,” Lacey starts after a moment of hesitation. “Any nonconsensual sexual activity would be very wrong. If a patient came to me and said they were thinking of committing such an act I would be very concerned…”  
  
“That’s, yeah,” Brian says. Thinks, _But that’s not what I mean._  
  
Lacey frowns at him, then says, “What are you actually asking me here, Brian?”  
  
“Nothing,” Brian decides, picking at a fingernail. Lacey sighs.  
  
“I know it’s hard to open up, but try to. It’s safe here, it’s just you and me, and trust me, there isn’t much you can say that I haven’t heard worse, so don’t hold your tongue on my behalf,” she says, then leans forward, placing one small hand on top of his. “I’ve had two other patients just today who spent the whole session talking about problems in their sex life. If you feel like you’re alone, Brian, you’re not.”  
  
Brian bites his lip, pulling away from her after a moment. “Okay,” he relents.  
  
“Okay,” she echoes, watching him expectantly.  
  
“I—uhm,” he starts, unsure how to say what he wants to say. _I let my partner eat cum out of my ass, do you think that’s okay?_ So crude. He finally settles on, “Do you know what felching is?”  
  
“In fact, I do,” Lacey says with a sly grin. “Why, is that what is bothering you?”  
  
“Yeah,” he mumbles, eyes to the carpet.  
  
“Was this the first time you performed this act?” Lacey asks. “Because I’m going to go ahead and say right now is not a good time to be experimental.”  
  
Brian’s already shaking his head before she finishes. “No, he’s done it before. I just never really thought about it…” Then, so quietly it’s almost inaudible, “I asked him if he wanted me to use in enema, but he said no.”  
  
“What was that?” Lacey asks, leaning forward in her chair. Brian shakes his head, wishing he hadn’t said anything in the first place. Lacey plows on, “Well, I heard ‘enema’ and ‘no’, so I’m going to go with that.”  
  
“I just,” Brian says, trying to backpedal, but he doesn’t know what to say. Finally, “Zack said it was sex, and he wasn’t expecting it to be clean.”  
  
Lacey chuckles, then says, “Well put, I’ll give him that.”  
  
“I just felt so dirty and disgusting,” he says, that very feeling begin to crawl on him at that moment. He runs his hands up and down his arms, scratching. “I went in the bathroom and stared at myself in front of the mirror afterward, and I didn’t know what to do. I just tried to remember what you said and just repeated it to myself—good, healthy, and normal. Good, healthy, and…”  
  
“It’s good, healthy, and normal if you want it,” Lacey cuts in, leaning forward again. “If something is making you uncomfortable, though, that does not apply. If something is making you uncomfortable, or you’re scared, or you’re in pain, then it’s _not_ good, healthy, or normal.”  
  
Brian sighs, and says, “I know.”  
  
“You have the right to say ‘no’, we’ve already established that,” Lacey says. “You’re not a prostitute, sex is not your job. If you don’t want to do something, or if you don’t want him to do something, just tell him. You have that right.”  
  
“It’s not that easy,” Brian tells her. “Especially not in the moment. I don’t want to make him upset.”  
  
She smiles at him, the smile a bit sad. She says, “You say you repeated to yourself what I told you last time? How having sex with your partner was good and healthy? Well, I have something new for you to repeat to yourself when the time arises…  
  
“ _I am a good person. I am not a prostitute. And I have the right to say ‘no’._ ”


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Zack presses on after a heavy silence. “What on earth made you…? I swear, it’s been two fucking years, and I feel like you ~never fucking tell me anything~!”~

Days pass, and Brian’s anxiety comes and goes. He goes to class, and works, and comes home to Zack. He pretends that things are okay, and he thinks that maybe things will be okay eventually. Talking with Lacey has given him a different outlook—no, it hasn’t fixed everything, it hasn’t miraculously solved all of his self-esteem and nervous problems, but it’s given him hope that maybe he’s on the right track. It’s only been three sessions with her, and he’s already made a few baby steps forward.  
  
At least he’s not letting Zack fuck him and faking his orgasms anymore, that has to mean something.  
  
But it’s the end of summer semester at the community college, and finals are suddenly looming over Brian’s head. He’s no longer taking basic core classes anymore, classes he’d rarely struggled with, but he’s taking classes related to his major now; Health Information Technology. And the workload and exams have become increasingly harder in turn.  
  
He finds himself with a completely new source of stress, sitting up late at night on the couch with his textbooks open in his lap, trying to cram information that he already knows. Zack tries to tell him to calm down, that he’s smart and prepared and will do great, but Brian’s a wreck anyway.  
  
“You should have told me if you were struggling in this class,” Zack tells him with, frowning. “I would have studied with you, helped you.”  
  
“It’s… It’s okay,” Brian says, running his hands through his hair. _I don’t need your help, I don’t deserve your help…_ “I’m just going to go to bed. I’m tired.”  
  
But then the exam comes the next morning, and Brian breezes through it, easy as pie. He heads to work afterward for his afternoon/evening shift feeling beyond relieved, as if suddenly he can take on the world. Zack was right—he is smart, he was prepared, and he’s pretty sure he did great.  
  
Next, he’ll get his fucking life under control.  
  
The coffee shop he works at is a small, privately owned joint near the college frequented mostly by students. It’s not as big as the more popular Starbucks a few blocks down, but Brian thinks that makes for a better atmosphere. It’s less crowded, the few tables and armchairs spread about usually occupied by study groups. After almost two years of working there as a barista, he’s on a first name basis with a lot of the regulars that come in, good-natured kids from the college who tell him about their classes, their romances, and the other ins and outs of their lives.  
  
It’s a good job—the first job he’s had besides whoring in almost eight years—and he enjoys the quiet comfortable environment, taking orders and making drinks, and the knowledge that he’s actually making honest money.  
  
The afternoon flies by in a haze of espressos and frappes, and before Brian knows it it’s 9:30 PM, closing time. His afternoon co-worker left a couple of hours prior as scheduled, leaving Brian to close by himself. So Brian gets to work, scrubbing down the bar and espresso machine first then pulling out the mop to clean the floor. He does his best to hurry—the sooner he finishes, the sooner he can leave and go home to Zack.  
  
He hears the door chime from where he’s mopping behind the counters and sighs, realizing he forgot to lock the front doors. He forgets occasionally, though it’s not often someone will wander in this late. Brian clears his throat, glancing back over his shoulder to see the man standing just inside the doorway, and says, “Sorry, dude, we just closed. Closed at 9:30…”  
  
“I’m not here for your fucking coffee,” the man says, and Brian’s blood runs cold.  
  
Brian turns around slowly, taking in the man across the shop. He’s dressed in all black, though otherwise unremarkable, and Brian comes to the first obvious assumption. “Hey, it’s all cool, man,” Brian starts, putting down the mop and raising his hands in a placating gesture. The man doesn’t appear armed, but Brian’s lived on the streets long enough to know that looks can be deceiving. He continues, “I haven’t closed out the register yet. Just let me open it for you, and you can take the money and go. I don’t want any trouble.”  
  
“I don’t want your money, either,” the man replies, laughing. This brings Brian up short, but the man continues, “You don’t recognize me, do you? I’m insulted. I recognized you the moment I saw you. Happened to drop in here instead of Starbucks the other day, just on a fucking whim, and there you fucking are… Making coffee like a big boy.”  
  
And then Brian suddenly does recognize him, can suddenly see himself years and years back, can see this man pulling his hair, fucking his mouth, and cuffing him upside the head whenever he choked and gagged. He’s abruptly terrified, more terrified than he’d been when he’d thought he was getting robbed. This is different, and personal, and _cannot be real_. He grabs the mop back up, trying to appear threatening, and says, “Get out. Now.”  
  
“Ah, but I looked for you on that corner,” the man continues, not making any move to leave. “I looked, and I looked, and I looked. I looked on other streets and other corners, figured maybe you’d gotten run off. You were kinda skinny and weak back then, I figured it could’ve happened.”  
  
The man starts advancing on him, and Brian panics, pushing the large yellow mop bucket in front of himself, between himself and the man. “Go away,” Brian says. And then, just to clarify, “I don’t do that anymore.”  
  
“Well, I see you think you’re not a whore anymore,” the man says, laughing, and proceeds to let himself behind the counter with Brian. “But you see, I came to you for what I couldn’t get elsewhere. And then you go and leave me high and dry? Fucking rude as hell.”  
  
And Brian realizes that he has to do something, he has to do something before this escalates any further. He takes the mop in his hands and hits the mop bucket hard, knocking it over and spilling dirty water all over the floor, as well as the hem of the man’s black jeans. The bucket slides forward, and the man ends up tripping over it as he continues to advance, giving Brian the chance to grab him by the shoulders and shove him back. “Get out! Now!” he yells.  
  
The man laughs at him, says, “Oh, the little slut has grown an attitude!” And before Brian can react accordingly, the man slams into him, sending him reeling back against the counter and slipping on the freshly mopped floor. He falls, hitting the ground hard with a pained groan, and the man laughs at him again, advancing.  
  
And it’s like a nightmare come to life. The man grabs him by his hair, jerking him up until he’s eye-level with the man’s crotch. The man’s already hard in his jeans just from the struggle, and Brian watches in unconcealed horror as the man unbuttons and unzips himself, then pulls himself out. Brian struggles to pull away, but the man yanks him back by his hair, then smacks him on the mouth with his cock a few time for good measure.  
  
“Now be a good slut and open up,” the man says, bringing his free hand around and forcing his fingers into Brian’s mouth. Brian’s thinks about biting him, but then, “Bite me, and I’ll break your jaw.” And that’s what they all say. Brian opens up, the fight in him suddenly frozen out of fear, and chokes when the man’s dick is immediately shoved down his throat.  
  
It’s not as though Brian can’t still deep-throat; he gives Zack that pleasure gladly. But Zack lets him set the pace, lets him do as he please—Zack has never held his head and forced him to swallow around him. And while Brian knew how to handle men like this before, back when he had to do this every night, he suddenly can’t control his gag reflex. He chokes and he gags, and he gags and he chokes, all while the man yells at him and calls him disgusting and intermittently hits him in the head.  
  
He’s gagged one too many times, he can tell, his stomach is sick and sour. He tries to stop himself, but then he’s vomiting, coughing and choking on his own sick. Blessedly, it makes the man let him go, and he sinks to the ground on his hands and knees, heaving dryly. He can hear the man calling him names, can feel the man’s sneaker connect with his ribcage, and he closes his eyes, thinks unexpectedly…  
  
 _I am a good person. I am not a prostitute. And I have the right to say ‘no’._  
  
He spies the mop lying on the ground just a few feet away, and he crawls toward it quickly, desperately. The man kicks him again, then again, but Brian whirls, grabbing the counter with one hand to leverage himself and swings the mop wildly with the other. He catches the son of a bitch once in the chest, just a light tap, but then smacks him hard the second time in the chin. The man stumbles back, which gives Brian enough time to struggle to his feet.  
  
“Get out!!” he yells, brandishing the mop. “Get out, or I’ll call the cops!”  
  
The man laughs, then advances one more time. Brian takes the mop and slams it across the side of his head, praying to whatever deity is listening that it will stop him. Thankfully it does, and it sends the man swaying out of the shop holding his head and cursing Brian.  
  
Brian’s left standing behind the counter, dirty mop water under his feet, his throat sore and his knees shaking. His whole face hurts, but most especially around his right eye—the man had hit him there several times. He’ll probably have a black eye come morning. His ribcage hurts, but in an indistinct unreal sort of way. In fact, none of it seems very real.  
  
He goes through the motions of cleaning up the water and finishing the mopping, then gets in his car and leaves. He realizes afterward that he’d forgotten to take the trash out to the dumpster. And forgotten to clean the bathrooms. And forgotten to close out the register. He’s going to be in so much shit with the boss…  
  
But he’s not going back to finish. Not now. He just can’t.  
  
He’s driving home, and then finds himself parked in front of a 7-11 with a pack of Marlboros in one hand and a bottle of whiskey in the other. He doesn’t remember consciously deciding to pull over, and he hasn’t smoked in almost a year. Zack had helped him quit, had told him the best way to use the nicotine patches and how he should wean himself off the actual cigarettes. He’d bought cinnamon jawbreakers and sucked on them anytime he had a craving, and Zack had been so proud of him.  
  
He lights the cigarette with a cheap lighter he’d bought inside, and his hands shake as he takes his first drag. The smoke burns his lungs, and he squints up at the lights in the gas station’s overhang, telling himself he should go home. It’s late, it’s already almost 11:00 PM. Zack will be wondering where he is.  
  
He finishes his first cigarette, lights a second, then opens the bottle of whiskey.  
  
~*~  
  
It’s after 1:00 AM when Brian drags himself through the front door of their apartment. He’s dirty and bruising from the scuffle in the coffee shop, he smells like cigarette smoke, and most of all, he’s drunk. He’s very, very drunk.  
  
Zack is still awake waiting for him in the living room. He jumps up from the couch looking relieved, _extremely_ relieved, and exclaims, “Oh my fucking God, you’re home! I’ve been calling your phone, and you haven’t been answering! I was fucking worried!”  
  
And he had been calling the phone. He’d started calling Brian at a little after 11:00 PM, and had called him incessantly after that. Brian had ignored him.  
  
Zack rushes to Brian and hugs him, before suddenly taking a step back, his expression quickly twisting from relieved to indignant. “Why do you smell like cigarette smoke? Have you been smoking?” he asks, then another step back. “Have you been in a fight? Your clothes… What happened to your face?”  
  
Brian doesn’t even consider telling him. He can’t. He doesn’t want to tell anyone he just let a john violate him again. So he says, “Nothing… Nothing happened.”  
  
It comes out slurred; he’s always been a sloppy drunk. Zack’s expression changes from indignant to outraged, and he snaps, “Are you fucking _drunk?!_ ”  
  
And there’s no point in denying that. “Yeah,” he says, going to shoulder past Zack toward their bedroom. He’s tired, and he’s dying for a piss.  
  
Ichabod yaps at him a couple of times as he passes, almost as if scolding him for his bad behavior. “Did you drive home drunk?!” Zack squawks from behind him, hurrying to catch up. “Please tell me you did not dri…”  
  
“I drove slow,” Brian says, peeling off his filthy work shirt and work pants once he’s in the bedroom.  
  
“You drove slow. Oh my fucking God, Brian, you son of a bitch,” Zack snaps, hot on his heels as Brian steps into the bathroom and tosses his dirty clothes in the hamper. Then, “You could have fucking killed someone.”  
  
“Yeah, and I didn’t,” Brian says, then heads for the toilet. “I gotta piss, so get off my ass.”  
  
“I’m not done, so you can piss and listen,” Zack says, leaning in the bathroom doorway and glaring. Brian glares back before eventually giving up. He’s had too much alcohol to try to hold it, so he starts to relieve himself while Zack continues, “So, where the hell were you where you were apparently drinking, smoking, and fighting people until one in the morning, huh? And not bothering to answer your phone to let me know you weren’t in the hospital, or hadn’t been in a car accident, or weren’t lying dead by the side of the fucking road…”  
  
Brian doesn’t answer—just finishes pissing, shakes himself off, then flushes. Zack sighs loudly.  
  
“At a bar or something?” Zack tries. “Were you…?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says, interrupting, because this seems like a plausible lie. “Yeah, I was at a bar.”  
  
Zack doesn’t say anything to that, and Brian has nothing to add. He washes his hands, then wets a washcloth and scrubs at his face. Eventually Zack groans, raking his nails through his hair, and says, “Why? Was there some reason you went to a bar?”  
  
“I wanted a drink,” Brian answers.  
  
“A bunch of drinks,” Zack corrects him, then finishes, “And a few cigarettes.” Brian doesn’t bother trying to argue. Zack presses on after a heavy silence. “What on earth made you…? I swear, it’s been two fucking years, and I feel like you _never fucking tell me anything_!”  
  
“I’ve told you more than you ever wanted to know,” Brian says, grabbing his toothbrush. _And I can’t tell you everything, so don’t ask me to._  
  
“What is that even supposed to mean?” Zack snaps, frustrated. Silence settles then as Brian starts brushing his teeth. Then finally Zack speaks up, so quiet it’s almost inaudible, “Did you sleep with someone else—are you cheating on me?”  
  
Yes, Brian thinks. _I just had another man’s cock rammed down my throat._ Yet at the same time thinks, no. _I could never give myself to anyone else the way I’ve given myself to you._ He spits the toothpaste out in the sink, and finally settles on rudely answering, “I can barely get it up for you! You really think I’m gonna sleep with someone else?”  
  
Zack eyes him, hurt, and answers, “Exactly. You can barely get it up for me.”  
  
Brian sighs. He’s so done. “I’m exhausted, and I have an exam in the morning.”  
  
Zack nods, seemingly defeated and obviously exhausted as well. “You can sleep on the couch,” he says.  
  
They go to bed without ‘good-night’s’ and ‘i-love-you’s’, and Brian lies on the couch watching the television on mute, his mind spinning in circles.  
  
He does not sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
Brian gives Zack his space in the morning, doesn’t try to talk to him or explain himself. He has an awful hangover, his head pounding and his stomach sick, and this horrible feeling has taken his chest in a vice grip and won’t let go. And of course, he wants a cigarette.  
  
And to make Brian feel worse, Zack stops by the couch on his way out the door to kiss his cheek and tell him good-bye, as usual. Brian just wants to scream.  
  
He steps outside in front of the apartment with what is left of his pack of Marlboros. He chain smokes three cigarettes while leaning against the front of the apartment in the boxers and t-shirt he’d slept in. He has a final that morning though, his last one for the semester, and he has to take a shower and get dressed. Otherwise, he’d gladly chain smoke a few more.  
  
His cellphone goes off on his way to the college, and he glances down at his phone, expecting Zack. He’s surprised to see the name of his boss, the coffee shop’s owner and manager, and his anxiety only intensifies. Is he calling him already that morning to fire him? He knows he screwed up and forgot to take care of things, and he expects to get a lecture, maybe lose some pay, but why is he getting a call already this early the next morning?  
  
He puts his phone on vibrate as he goes into the exam, and tries not to worry too much, tries not to let his mind wander.  
  
He phone proceeds to blow up throughout the entirety of the exam, and while it’s on vibrate, the buzzing noise can still be heard in the quiet of the classroom. He’s embarrassed, but tries to play it cool and just finish answering the questions. Luckily no one figures out it’s his phone that’s continuously going off.  
  
He has five missed calls once he gets the chance to check, all stretched out over the three-hour period he’d been in the exam, and he frowns as he scrolls through them. There are two more calls from his boss and then… Three calls from Matt? Why on Earth is Matt calling him? He wonders if Zack has said something to him already. He’s so tired…  
  
He chooses to call Matt back first, dialing the man’s number once he’s back in the parking lot sitting in his little VW. Matt picks up after the second ring, answering, “Hey, Brian, sorry for calling you so much…”  
  
“It’s alright,” Brian lies. Then, “What do you need?”  
  
“I’m at the police station. I’m on duty,” Matt starts with, voice hesitant. Then, “We need you to come down to the station.”  
  
“Why?” Brian snaps, immediately defensive. He hasn’t done a damn thing, and he says as much. “I haven’t done anything.”  
  
“No, that’s not…” Matt starts, then sighs, obviously troubled. He speaks up again eventually, “Your boss from the coffee shop called us this morning to report an assault. He’d pulled the security cam footage from last night—we need you to come in and make an official statement.”  
  
Brian’s stomach drops to his feet, and he thinks for a moment that he’s going to be sick. He swallows hard, wonders how he could have forgotten about the security camera. There’s one facing the register, just in case of break-ins—and Brian realizes it had to have captured to whole ordeal from the previous night. “No!” Brian yells, mortified. “No, fuck no. No one needs a damn statement. Why the hell did he pull the security cam footage anyway, for fuck’s sake…”  
  
“He said he could tell something was wrong, I don’t know,” Matt answers. “He’s still here, you can talk to him if you want. But we need your statement, we have a case here against this man, we can put him away. But we need your statement.”  
  
“No,” Brian says emphatically.  
  
“Brian, please. I feel like you may have information you can give us regarding this case,” Matt says tactfully. “Information that will help us catch this guy.”  
  
“Why, because I’m a whore?” Brian snaps. “Why do you care? All he did was screw around with a whore, leave it be.”  
  
There’s an odd silence on the other line, almost as if he has shocked Matt into speechlessness. But finally Matt says, “I’m not asking as cop, I’m asking as a friend. Come in and make a statement. He assaulted you. Come in and make a statement so we can put this asshole behind bars.”  
  
And the part of Brian that still has hope, that wants to be better and wants to be happy, it leaps at Matt’s words. He wants the son of a bitch behind bars, not only for what he did to Brian but to ensure that he won’t do the same thing to anyone else. And while the hardened, angry part of Brian is still screaming ‘no’, it’s that other softer part of him that finally answers, “Alright, fine. I’m on my way over.”  
  
“Thank you,” is all Matt says before hanging up.


	4. Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~If they have the whole incident on security cam, why the hell does it matter what Brian says? He doesn’t want to go into that building and talk to anyone about anything…~

Brian almost changes his mind once he gets to the police station. He sits in the parking lot in his little VW, the window rolled down, smoking a cigarette and staring up at the sky. He wonders exactly what Matt needs him for anyway? If they have the whole incident on security cam, why the hell does it matter what Brian says? He doesn’t want to go into that building and talk to anyone about anything…  
  
He almost changes his mind about it. Almost. He doesn’t drive away, though, just sits in the driver’s seat and keeps smoking.  
  
It’s Johnny who comes out after almost twenty minutes, scuffling his sneakers across the pavement before leaning into the open window of Brian’s car. Brian’s always liked Johnny—he’s Matt’s partner on the force, a little shithead with a wild streak a mile long—and Brian knows he shouldn’t be angry with him, just like he shouldn’t be angry with Matt. None of this is their fault, and they’re just doing their jobs. But none of that stops Brian from snapping, “What do you want, short shit?”  
  
It’s difficult to see Johnny’s expression behind his sunglasses, but the man shrugs his shoulders and answers, “Matt sent me out to get you.”  
  
“What, he can’t walk out here himself?” Brian gripes, but opens the car door nonetheless. Johnny stumbles back out of the way, giving Brian room, and Brian throws his cigarette on the pavement, stamping it out. He dreads what Johnny’s going to say next, any variation of ‘how are you holding up?’ with a stupid sympathetic frown. But really, he should know Johnny better than that.  
  
“Can I bum a cig?” he asks simply, not even mentioning what had happened or what’s being investigated inside. Brian’s insanely grateful, and he nods, leaning back into his car to grab his pack. He shakes one out and hands it to Johnny along with his lighter, and watches as the shorter man lights up. “You shouldn’t smoke these, you know,” Johnny tells him as he gives him the lighter back and Brian tosses everything back in the car. “They’ll kill you.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, fuck you,” Brian says, making Johnny chuckle. They walk side by side through the parking lot to the front doors of the station before parting ways—Johnny stays outside to smoke while Brian forces himself inside. He’s directed to the back by the kind woman at the front desk, and soon enough finds himself face to face with Matt Sanders, as well as his boss from the coffee shop.  
  
“Brian,” Matt greets simply from where he’s seated at his desk, spinning around in his office chair to face him. He has that sympathetic look on his face that Brian has seen so many times before in his life and has grown to hate with a passion.  
  
Meanwhile Brian’s boss, Charlie, jumps up from his seat, the look on his face somewhere between shocked and heartbroken. Charlie is an older, kind, gentlemanly sort of fellow, well-loved by all of his employees. Brian had searched for a job high and low before finally being hired by Charlie, and he’ll always be grateful to the man for giving him a chance. Now, though? He just wants Charlie to sit back down, shut up, and leave him alone.  
  
Unfortunately, Charlie doesn’t seem to understand this. The man calls out, “My God, your face! Are you okay?” Then, when Brian only scowls and pokes subconsciously at his black-eye, he amends, “I’m sorry, I suppose that was a dumb question.”  
  
Brian doesn’t say anything at first, still angry, unsure of what he’s supposed to say. Finally Matt speaks up, “You’re bruised up good.”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian mumbles, running a hand over his face again. “My eye fucking hurts,” then a sideways glance at the boss, “sorry for the language.”  
  
“I’m not your boss right now,” Charlie says kindly, smiling. “Just a friend. So don’t worry, I--” But Brian hears something else entirely… He hears, _I’m not your boss, because you don’t have a job anymore._  
  
“No, please,” Brian says immediately, desperately, taking a few steps toward Charlie. The man looks shocked by his sudden change of demeanor—even Matt straightens up in his desk chair a bit—but Brian presses on. “Please, I know I fu…I mean, I screwed up. I forgot to lock the door, and the guy came in, and it was a huge mess. But please don’t fire me, I need this job. I won’t mention this to anyone, and I won’t forget to lock the door again, I swear, I promise…”  
  
“Brian…” Matt starts, interrupting, but then Charlie cuts in before he can get anywhere.  
  
“Now listen here, son,” Charlie says, pointing his finger in Brian’s direction, and Brian feels at once both indignant and chastised all at once. “You’re not going anywhere—no one’s firing you. Yes, you should have locked the damn door, but that didn’t give that scumbag the right to come in there and do that. It didn’t give him the right to come onto _my_ property and attack one of _my_ employees. You got it?”  
  
And Brian’s never seen this side of the man. He’s always just a little roly-poly, smiley, bumbling old man. Whenever he’s at the shop, he’s always pulling out his iPhone to show off pictures of his new granddaughter, and reminiscing on times when his own children were younger. Brian’s never even heard him so much as take a harsh tone with anyone, and all he can do is nod in reply, feeling small and childish.  
  
“Alright,” Matt says eventually, breaking the awkward silence. “We discussed tonight already, I’ll make sure someone does a few patrols through the parking lot once it gets dark,” he continues, obviously addressing Charlie. “So that should cover everything.”  
  
Charlie replies in turn. “Good. I’ve got two of my girls working tonight—I told them what had happened, and that no one was staying past 9:00 to close by themselves, my new rule. So they—“  
  
“You told them? You fucking told them?” Brian asks, suddenly angry again. What gave him the right? And while he’s at it… “And why the hell did you pull the damn security cam in the first place. Were you just curious what I was up to? What the fuck…” He needs to stop, but God he’s angry, and it feels good to yell.  
  
“I pulled the footage,” Charlie says stiffly, turning steel grey eyes to Brian, annoyed, “because I was worried. I came in this morning to take care of some paperwork, and so much was out of place—even the cash register hadn’t been closed out. I knew that wasn’t you.”  
  
“And you couldn’t have just called me to ask what was going on?” Brian snaps.  
  
“I did, and you didn’t answer. Twice,” Charlie counters. Then, “I thought maybe you’d gotten sick, but then I knew you would have at least texted me to let me know you were leaving early, before you were finished with everything. The whole thing had me feeling bad. I knew something was wrong.”  
  
“You should have just left it,” Brian says. “No one needed to know.”  
  
“Brian…” Matt tries, but Brian just gives him a look.  
  
“No one needed to know?” Charlie parrots. “Brian, you—if that had been one of my daughters, I swear, I don’t know what I’d do. They’d be arresting me because I’d have killed that scumbag. And you’re standing there telling me no one needs to know?”  
  
 _But it wasn’t one of your daughters, it was a prostitute_ , Brian thinks. He sighs, turns to look down at Matt. Matt looks back up at him with an understanding expression, as if he knows what is going through Brian’s head. It’s unnerving.  
  
“They’re not going to bring you up on more charges,” Charlie says suddenly, inexplicably. “You didn’t do anything wrong, this wasn’t your fault. Tell him, Officer.” He looks at Matt, prompting.  
  
And it takes Brian a few seconds to connect the dots, but he gets there eventually. The only police charges Brian’s ever been brought up on have been prostitution charges, but none of those charges ever stuck. There was apparently never enough evidence to convict him, and he would end up coming and going through the jail like the place had a revolving door. However, something that Brian had not realized until later when he was trying and failing to find a job—while those charges may not have held him in the jail or turned into convictions, they were still very real and stuck on record. And they definitely showed on a background check.  
  
Potential employers don’t like to hire former prostitutes, as it turned out. Which is why Brian always assumed that Charlie hadn’t done a background check on him. Because why the hell would he have hired him if he knew? None of it makes any sense.  
  
Brian stares down at Matt, who looks perplexed, and does the first thing that comes to mind. He accuses someone else. “Did you tell him?” he snaps at Matt.  
  
Matt raises his eyebrows and wrinkles his nose, says, “Dude, you really think I’d do that?”  
  
“Then how the hell…?” Brian starts.  
  
“Your background check, Brian,” Charlie says, looking exasperated. Brian’s sure the old man has never seen this side of him before, this side of himself Brian is not proud of—judgmental, frenzied, and hysterical. He keeps his ‘Nice Brian’ face on at work—kind, professional, and dependable. He must seem like a completely different person right now.  
  
“Pshh,” Brian scoffs. “You didn’t do a background check.”  
  
“You signed consent upon being hired,” Charlie says sternly. “I saw all the dropped prostitution charges on your record. I mean, I realize they were dropped, but I…”  
  
“And you hired him anyway?” Matt interrupts, looking highly intrigued. And really, Brian’s curious too.  
  
“He’d already been working on a trial basis for a couple of days before I got the report back,” Charlie says. “All my employees I start on a two-week trial period before I officially ‘hire’ them. Anyway, he was doing great—professional, quick to learn, the customers all loved him. And I just figured…” He trails off, gives Brian a crooked little smile. “Everybody deserves a second chance, son, you know?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, fucking saint,” Brian mumbles. He rubs his hand over his face, wincing as pain spikes through his bruises.  
  
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that, since I know you’ve…” Charlie trails off.  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says.  
  
Matt sighs, stepping in after a pause. “You should have mentioned those charges. I didn’t even think about them. We could have had those records sealed.”  
  
“Now you say something,” Brian gripes. “After I got turned down for a million and one jobs…”  
  
Matt shrugs sheepishly, and says, “Sorry.”  
  
“Wait,” Charlie puts in. “Do you both know each other?” He gestures between Matt and Brian.  
  
Matt laughs, while Brian answers, “Who do you think gave me most of those whore charges?”  
  
“Wait, that’s not fair!” Matt says, still chuckling. He adds, “Nah, I’ve been friends with his Zack since before he was even in the picture.”  
  
And Brian really just wants to smack the man at that moment, because… “Who’s Zack?” Charlie asks, brows furrowed.  
  
“My roommate,” Brian answers quickly.  
  
While Matt says simultaneously, “His partner.” Then, seeming to realize he’s screwed up, “Oh…”  
  
“Dude, I don’t generally go around broadcasting my sexuality to everyone I meet,” Brian snaps at Matt.  
  
“Hey, it’s okay,” Charlie says, placating.  
  
Matt squares his shoulders off, though, defending himself. “You’ve been living with him for how long now? How was I supposed to know it was apparently a secret?”  
  
And Brian’s so done. He can’t fucking win, no matter how hard he tries, no matter what he does. “Dude, just…” Brian starts, scratching his fingers through his hair, horribly irritated and angry again. “I had a john’s cock shoved down my throat yesterday. Give me a fucking break. Didn’t I just need to come in and make a statement, can we just get this fucking over with?”  
  
The other two men are strangely silent after his outburst. Brian shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable. Johnny chooses that moment to meander back into the room. Brian can smell the cigarette smoke on him, and suddenly craves a cigarette himself. He presses his fingers together to try to quell the craving.  
  
“What’s going on?” Johnny asks.  
  
“Take my statement and get on with this,” Brian snaps at him. Johnny raises his brows.  
  
“Come on,” Matt says, standing. “I’ll take you back to an interview room so we have some privacy.”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian answers, and follows him dejectedly.  
  
It goes quickly at least. There was no sound on the security cam footage, and Matt’s main questions are about what was being said. Brian lies a lot, not wanting to admit the man was calling him a slut and a whore and a cocksucker—not about to tell Matt the man was looking for Brian specifically because he used to do this to Brian all the fucking time. He admits that he recognized the man, yes, that the man used to be a john, yes. But he tells him nothing else.  
  
Because no one needs to fucking know.  
  
~*~  
  
Brian is already home, busy sitting on the couch eating cereal for dinner and watching television, when Zack comes home from work. Ichabod jumps off the couch from his spot next to Brian and runs to the door to greet Zack. Brian watches, stomach churning nervously.  
  
Zack was angry and disappointed in him last night, and rightfully so, though they haven’t had a chance to talk since. Not knowing where they stand now is killing him. On some deep, probably unhealthy level, Brian lives for Zack’s approval.  
  
But he’s still not going to tell the man what really happened. He doesn’t know how. He just can’t.  
  
Zack sets his car keys down in the basket by the door, bends down to pet Ichabod, then looks up at Brian. Zack gives him a gentle smile, which then falls slowly to a frown. “Oh, your eye,” he says, starting to wander over to him.  
  
“I’m fine,” Brian says, though finds himself in Zack’s hands regardless, his face being turned this way and that. Zack gently pulls his lower eyelid down, inspecting his eyeball, and Brian flinches despite himself, the motion painful.  
  
“Sorry,” Zack says quietly, letting him go. “You look okay. It’s just bruised good.”  
  
“S’okay,” Brian answers him. Thinks, _I could’ve told you it was just a bruise._ But Zack likes to play doctor, so…  
  
They’re left there together—Brian sitting on the couch, Zack hovering just over him. Brian wants to say something, something to diffuse the tension, but he’s at a loss. He’s never been good at this part of the relationship, the fighting and the making-up. The only kind of making-up he’s ever been good at is the make-up sex, showing Zack how much he loves him and how sorry he is with hot kisses and desperate touches.  
  
Now, though? Brian’s not sure he’s going to be able to do even that.  
  
Zack reaches out to run his hand through Brian’s hair, and says, “I’m still angry.”  
  
“I don’t blame you,” Brian tells him.  
  
“And I’m not quite ready to forgive and forget,” he continues. “Because I have no idea where the hell that came from last night.”  
  
Brian nods, understanding. He wants to be able to tell him, wants to be able to tell him where it came from, why he was such a wreck, he really does. He just _can’t_.  
  
“But I love you,” Zack says, running his fingers through Brian’s hair again. “And I don’t want to go to bed without you again tonight.”  
  
Brian’s heart aches, and he leans his forehead against Zack’s. Blessedly, Zack doesn’t pull back. Brian murmurs, “Thank you.”  
  
Zack chuckles. “I’ve been dead on my feet all day,” he says. “I don’t think I slept at all last night. I mean, at first I was so worked up I couldn’t sleep. But then I was starting to calm down, and I’d start to doze, and fuck… I’d reach an arm out for you and you weren’t there. And I’d suddenly realize I couldn’t hear you breathing, couldn’t hear your little fucking snuffly snoring.” He laughs, and Brian can’t help but smile. “I’m a wreck, too used to you—can’t fucking sleep without you even when you’re being a righteous bastard.”  
  
“I couldn’t sleep either,” Brian tells him quietly, watching as the man stands up.  
  
Zack nods, and says, “I’m going to bed early. After I shower, at least. And eat.”  
  
Brian smiles, motioning to the cereal he’s eating. Zack chuckles, and says, “That looks delicious.”  
  
And they talk idle chit-chat while they eat, not mentioning the previous night again. It’s somewhat comfortable, even though Brian’s skin is still itching with disgust and embarrassment. He brushes his teeth afterward while Zack gets in the shower, and he stares at himself in the mirror, looks at his black eye and his bruised jawline.  
  
Suddenly and fiercely, he can see himself in the coffee shop on the floor, can feel the man’s cock in his throat choking him. He has to grab the bathroom countertop to steady himself, and for a moment he thinks he’s going to be sick. But then the nausea passes, and he spits his toothpaste in the sink, looking back up at himself in the mirror. He looks so pale.  
  
He lies down in their bed in a t-shirt and boxers, and soon after, he feels Zack settle down behind him. Zack throws an arm around his waist, spooning up behind him, and Brian stares at the wall in front of him.  
  
He is so conflicted.  
  
~*~  
  
He’s not going to tell Lacey, he decides. He doesn’t want to get into it. She’ll make a huge fucking deal of it, probably want to call it ‘rape’ or something, and Brian’s just a fucking prostitute. It’s nothing new, he’s been through worse. This is just a bump in the road, and it will blow over. In a couple of weeks, he’ll probably forget it even happened.  
  
Though at his appointment with her the next week, even after everything he’s told himself—when he sits down in the big fluffy chair across from her and looks into her kind eyes, he panics.  
  
“So, Brian, how was your week?” Lacey asks him as usual, frowning a bit when she notices his still bruised face. “You’re looking rough, what happened to your eye?”  
  
And he can literally feel himself losing it. “I—“ he starts, then coughs.  
  
“Brian?” Lacey asks, expression so concerned. He must have the words ‘I’m becoming hysterical’ written across the front of his face. He can feel himself beginning to tear up.  
  
He hasn’t cried over this, and he has no intentions of crying over this. Ever. But suddenly there’s a tear sliding down his cheek. He wipes it away hastily, trying to hide it, but Lacey’s quickly grabbing the box of tissues off the coffee table next to her and handing them to Brian. Brian snatches them from her, irate, then throws them on the floor.  
  
To her credit, Lacey doesn’t even blink at his small tantrum. She just asks, “Brian, what happened? What’s wrong? Tell me.”  
  
And Brian doesn’t want to. Hell, he’d already decided that he wasn’t going to. But then it’s suddenly all spilling out of his mouth in a rushed, frantic torrent. “I was working, fuck… Working at the coffee shop at night. And this guy, this fucker who I used to—okay, I used to let him gag me with his fucking cock and smack me around for fifty dollars, okay? That’s the kind of person I am! Deep down, that’s the kind of person…”  
  
“Brian, Brian,” Lacey says quietly, calmly, reaching for him. Brian jerks back, unfazed. “Brian, take a deep breath. Now tell me what happened.”  
  
Brian does not take a deep breath, just plows on. “The son of a bitch came into the shop—came in because _I_ was fucking stupid and left the door unlocked… And he just barged in, and pushed me down on the floor, and…”  
  
He’s crying now, he’s aware of this, but he can’t stop the tears from coming. Lacey reaches for him again, murmuring sympathetically, and this time when she takes hold of his hand, he allows it.  
  
“And for a while, I didn’t even fight him,” Brian admits, horrified to admit it but remembering it clearly. He remembers choking and gagging, not moving, not struggling, just numb. It’s haunting him, it’s been haunting him ever since it happened. “I just let him fuck my mouth. I was too scared, too shocked. But fuck, it’s not like he’d never done it before! So why not…?”  
  
Lacey squeezes his hand gently, then says, “I’m so sorry, Brian.”  
  
“I don’t need your fucking sympathy,” Brian says, angry. Angry at what happened, angry at himself, angry at the entire world… “I’m just so…”  
  
“Did you call the police?” Lacey asks.  
  
Brian laughs hysterically. “Oh no, they called _me_! Because they have the whole thing on security cam video. Can you fucking imagine? Because I can’t! Sitting there watching me let some asshole violate me…”  
  
“Brian, this was not your fault,” Lacey says. “You didn’t let him do anything. You did not allow him to do anything. Like you just said, he violated you. He was in the wrong, not you.”  
  
Brian takes a breath and lets it out, trying to calm himself. He knows deep down that Lacey is right, know logically that this is true, but it doesn’t feel that way, not in that moment. “I feel so used,” he tells her, quiet. “I’d almost forgotten what this felt like.”  
  
Lacey reaches down to pick the box of tissues up off of the floor, then hands them to Brian again. He takes them this time around, pulling one out to wipe at his eyes. Not only does he feel cheap and dirty, but now he’s worn out and embarrassed. Lacey smiles at him sadly, and asks, “Like what felt like?”  
  
“To be used like a fucking…” And he doesn’t even know what word he’s looking for.  
  
“Prostitute?” Lacey supplies, and Brian nods, because that’s close enough.  
  
“Zack never treats me like that,” Brian supplies idly. “And he’s the only person I’ve been with since…everything. I’d forgotten what it was like to—ugh. Zack’s always gentle, always takes care of me, never hurts me…”  
  
“Which is how you deserve to be treated—gently and lovingly,” Lacey tells him. Then, “What did Zack say? Has he been there for you?”  
  
And Brian laughs, he can’t help it. “I didn’t tell him,” Brian admits eventually. Then, when Lacey raises her eyebrows at him, “What, you’re surprised? I ‘never fucking tell him anything’. Those are his words, by the way…”  
  
“He accused you of not telling him anything?” Lacey clarifies. Then, “How did you feel about that?”  
  
The cliché therapist phrase makes him chuckle. “I don’t know—I mean, he’s right. But he doesn’t understand.”  
  
“Do you think he would understand more if you told him more about yourself?” Lacey questions.  
  
“You make it sound so easy, but it’s not,” Brian says quietly, miserably. Then, “That night that it happened, I started smoking again. I haven’t smoked in almost a year, but—I picked up a pack of smokes, and got shit-faced drunk, and came home way late. And we got into a huge fight. I mean, huge…” Lacey nods, not commenting. Brian presses on, “I mean, I can’t blame him. I would have been pissed, too. It’s just—we never fight, or at least, hardly ever fight. Not anymore. And when we do, it’s usually over stupid shit—like if I left dishes in the sink, that’s his favorite thing to bitch about. But this fight was different.”  
  
“Different?” Lacey prompts. “How so?”  
  
“It just was,” Brian says, sighing. Then, a moment of brutal honesty, “He accused me of cheating. I—I don’t want to lose him. I love him. So much. It scares me, he looked so… disappointed.”  
  
“I’m going to tell you the same thing I’ve told you before,” Lacey tells him, squeezing his hand. “Be open with him. Be as open with him as you can be. If you can’t tell him about what happened now, or about what you’re feeling now, then it’s something to work toward eventually. But for right now, I think you can at least tell him what you just told me… That you love him, and you don’t want to lose him.”  
  
Brian nods, because yes, that he is capable of doing.  
  
Lacey pulls one of her business cards off of the coffee table, turning it over and beginning to write on the back. “And I’m going to give you my cell number. I want you to have it, especially after what has happened. If you ever need to talk, I want you to call me. Day or night. Understand?”  
  
And Brian… He’s picked the best therapist possible. “Thank you so much, Lacey.”  
  
“You’re quite welcome,” Lacey says, and gives him a big, sweet smile. Then, “Be strong, Brian. Think of it this way—you’ve gotten this far, you’ll get through this too.”


	5. Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~In fact, the whole table’s eyes are now on Brian. Brian suddenly realizes that everyone at the table knows, even Michelle—everyone but Zack. He laughs, and he laughs some more.~

As time goes on, Brian turns to taking his life one step at a time, breath by breath, minute by minute. Thinking any further ahead than where he has to be that day leaves him stricken with anxiety, so he doesn’t plan to be anywhere, doesn’t want to go anywhere besides work and home. And now after what has happened? He could do without going to work as well.  
  
But the minutes tick by into hours, and hours tick by into days. Before he knows it, it has been well over a week since ‘the incident’, as he has taken to calling it in his head. Well over a week in which he has been all but a hermit, cooped up in the apartment with his video games and guitar, only creeping out to work his scheduled shifts at the coffee shop. Summer semester at the college is over, and fall semester isn’t starting for another two weeks, so he doesn’t even have any classes to drag himself to.  
  
He’s taken to only going to the gym on the days he has to leave the apartment anyway to go to work. Otherwise on his days off he lounges around in a t-shirt and boxers, often not even bothering to shower, playing games and watching television and napping. He does not leave the apartment unless it is absolutely necessary.  
  
It’s not as though he and Zack are social butterflies normally. Zack works hard, often over forty hours a week and in a stressful, demanding atmosphere at that—so Brian understands the man’s penchant for enjoying a quiet night in as opposed to a wild night out. But like any couple, they enjoy going out to dinner and going to the movies. They enjoy double-dating with Matt and Val. They enjoy going to the nearby pool hall to play a few games and have a few drinks, or driving over to the coast to spend a day at the beach, lazing in the sun and the sand.  
  
When Zack tries to get him to go out, tells him he wants to go to the beach before summer slips away from them, Brian politely declines. He says he doesn’t feel like it, and he’s tired. And it sounds pathetic even to his own ears, but Zack doesn’t press him.  
  
Zack is worried about him, Brian can tell. Zack is always worried about him nowadays. Brian wishes he could do something to make things better, but he’s stuck where he is.  
  
Matt invites him and Zack over to his home for dinner on Saturday night, and while Brian tries to weasel his way out of it, Matt insists that it is mandatory. “It’s important,” Matt tells him, apparently repeating the same speech he’d given to Zack. “Everyone’s going to be there. You and Zack, Michelle, Johnny… Johnny’s even bringing his new girlfriend, too.”  
  
“Oh, the illustrious fake girlfriend,” Brian says, unenthused. Then, “Alright, we’ll try to be there.”  
  
“You ~will~ be here,” Matt corrects him. “I’ll see you Saturday.”  
  
And so Brian whines to Zack and tells him that he doesn’t want to go.  
  
“Why not?” is Zack’s first response. Followed by, “Matt sounded so excited about the whole thing, I don’t know. Maybe he’s just excited to have everybody together, that doesn’t happen very often. Or excited to meet Johnny’s girlfriend, hahaha…”  
  
Brian can’t help but grin at that. “Yeah, maybe,” he says, then sighs.  
  
“We’ll go, at least for a bit,” Zack tells him. Then, “We haven’t been out of the apartment together in, what, a week? It’ll do us good to get out.”  
  
And yeah, Brian thinks… _That’s the whole reason I don’t want to go._  
  
So he finds himself dressed and done up, black jeans and a dark red button-down, standing in front of the Sanders-Di’benidetto home on Saturday evening. Zack rings the doorbell, standing in front of him, and Brian looks around himself idly, playing with the collar of his shirt.  
  
Val opens the door with a bright, happy smile, but instead of inviting them in, she immediately flings her hand out in front of Zack’s face, fingers down, showing off a ring. Brian has to step a bit closer to see it, peering down over Zack’s shoulder. Zack has already grabbed her hand up excitedly, cursing, and Brian knows what it is before he even lays eyes on it.  
  
She has a beautiful diamond solitaire perched on her left ring finger. Suddenly, Brian understands why Matt had said this dinner was ‘important’. They’re clearing announcing to everyone that…  
  
“Matt proposed to me!” Val gushes happily, beaming as Zack picks her up in a bear hug. She thrusts the ring out toward Brian next, and Brian has to admit, it’s a gorgeous piece of jewelry.  
  
“It’s about time,” he says, grinning when Val laughs at him.  
  
Congratulations are said all around as they’re both ushered into the house. Michelle, peeking her head out of the kitchen, tells Brian to check to see if pigs are flying—because they always said that that would be the day Matt would finally propose. Brian can’t help but laugh, and makes a show of looking out the window to check for the pigs.  
  
As things quiet down, Brian heads into the kitchen to see if he can help. Michelle motions to the oven, so Brian leans over, cracking the door open to peer inside. He can smell the garlic bread, and his stomach growls.  
  
“Does the bread look done?” Michelle asks.  
  
“Yeah. I’ll get it,” he answers, grabbing a pot holder. “What’re we having?”  
  
“Besides garlic bread?” Michelle says with a grin. “Lasagna. My mom’s recipe. I think Val’s made it for you guys before.”  
  
And yeah, she has. “Yummy,” Brian comments, pulling the bread out of the oven, and Michelle giggles at him.  
  
“Here,” she says, handing him a breadbasket before going back to work on a salad. Then, “I can’t believe they’re finally engaged. I was beginning to think it was never going to happen.”  
  
“I know,” Brian says. “It’s crazy. I didn’t see it coming.”  
  
“And I’m happy for her, I am,” she says, busy cutting up a cucumber. “I just thought I’d have at least found someone by the time she got married—is that selfish of me?”  
  
Brian takes a moment to look over at her, finishing up putting the bread in the breadbasket. She looks a bit melancholy, as though she has a lot on her mind. Brian shakes his head, and tells her, “I don’t think that’s selfish. I think that’s human.”  
  
“She’s my sister, though. My twin sister,” she tells him. “I should be completely happy, not even a little bit jealous. I just—“ She trails off, laughing lightly. “I want someone to look at me the way he looks at her. That sounds so ridiculous…”  
  
“No, it doesn’t,” Brian says. In a self-centered sort of way, it makes him feel better to know he’s not the only one off-put by all the happy, romancing atmosphere. He wants to go back to the apartment and wallow in his own self-misery. But he’s supposed to be happy, he knows this, so he pastes on a fake smile.  
  
He’s nothing if not a good actor.  
  
The doorbell rings suddenly, and Brian listens to more engagement congratulations as Johnny and, who Brian assumes is his girlfriend, are let in. Though Brian can only hear Val’s excited chatter, Johnny’s rather nasally responses, and Matt’s deep laughter, so maybe there really isn’t a woman with him. Maybe Brian’s jokes about the ‘fake’ girlfriend are closer to the truth than he knows.  
  
But then Zack backs his way into the kitchen, scuttling up to Brian. “You have got to see what Johnny just brought in here,” he says, this mischievous glint in his eye, and tugs lightly on Brian’s arm. Brian just raises his eyebrows at Michelle, vaguely motioning to her that the bread is ready, and allows himself to be pulled out into the family room.  
  
Their backs are facing the kitchen when Brian steps out, and all Brian notices at first is the woman’s deep brown shoulder length hair, her curvy figure, and the silky blue sundress she’s wearing. With her high heels she’s an inch or so taller than Johnny, and Brian can’t help but grin, ready to make a smart comment about his friend’s height. But then the woman turns, glancing back over her shoulder, and Brian finds himself looking at an exceedingly familiar face.  
  
Lacey. As in, Dr. Lacey Franklin, general psychiatrist, specializing in relationships, couples therapy, and sex therapy.  
  
“Uh…” Brian says, struck speechless. There’s this woman right here in front of him, this woman who could give him away, reveal him as the huge fucking fraud that he is. She could tell Zack all of his secrets, tell ~all~ of these people in the room everything he’s told her. Even saying something about being his therapist would crush him on a deep level, reveal him as a liar he truly is to Zack.  
  
He doesn’t know what to do, so he stares, wide-eyed. Then she gracefully smiles, and as though she’s never seen him before in her life, says, “I’m sorry, we weren’t introduced. I’m Lacey.”  
  
“I’m Zack. This is my partner, Brian,” Zack says. And Brian would be inclined to smack him for outing them—if the woman didn’t already know Brian, and already know about Zack, and already know about the intricacies of their sex life. Brian wonders why Zack hadn’t introduced himself earlier, and realized he must have scurried off to get Brian as soon as he’d seen the woman come through the door. He’s inclined to smack the man again because, for fuck’s sake, no class…  
  
But Brian shakes her hand, smiling, wondering what the hell she’s thinking. Probably that she’s fucking stepped in it. At least that is what Brian feels like.  
  
Michelle saves him soon after, though, calling him to help her with the food. So he hurries back into the kitchen and away from everyone, feeling as though he’s running for his life, and helps Michelle set the table and carry the lasagna out. He notices that Michelle sets several bottles of wine out, as well as wine glasses for everyone. Bless that woman, is all he can think.  
  
They all sit down to dinner soon enough, Val excitedly telling them about what she’s already come up with for wedding plans. Brian ends up sitting at the table with Zack on his right and Michelle on his left, Lacey directly across from him. The therapist stares at him oddly as they all sit down, as though trying to figure him out.  
  
Brian grabs the bottle of chardonnay in front of him, which is thankfully already uncorked, and pours himself a glass. A large glass. He can literally feel Zack’s eyes boring a hole in the side of his head as he does so, but he doesn’t care. He isn’t getting through this without alcohol.  
  
He passes the bottle to Zack once he’s through, smiles sweetly, and asks, “Red wine? Pass it around?”  
  
Zack gives him the suspicious green eyes, but Matt answers him back with, “Yeah, pass it around!” So Zack pours a glass, and passes the bottle around the table as instructed.  
  
Brian has almost finished his first glass by the time the bottle gets back around him, and he knows Zack is staring at him, knows Zack is waiting for some type of acknowledgment that Brian sees him, and most of all, knows that Zack doesn’t want him drinking like this after he’d just come home shit-faced at 1:00 in the morning a week prior. But the thing is—Brian is too stressed to care, so he just tries to ignore Zack’s persistent gaze.  
  
He looks across the table instead, finds Lacey watching at him as well. He grabs the bottle and pours himself a second glass just to spite them both.  
  
Val chatters on about her wedding plans as they help themselves to plates of lasagna, bread, and salad. Matt tells them about where he’d gotten the ring, and how he’d proposed. It’s all very romantic—too romantic. Brian feels sick, too anxious to eat, too upset to add much to the conversation. So he drinks—he drinks a third glass, then a fourth.  
  
And Zack stares, and stares.  
  
“I want you guys to be my groomsmen,” Matt announces suddenly. Then, “Zack, I’ve known you since we were both little kids in school—if you’d be my best man, I’d be…”  
  
“Dude,” Zack says, interrupting, his eyes finally off of Brian. “I’d be so fucking honored. You know I’ll be there.”  
  
Matt smiles wide. “And you both—Brian and Johnny—you both will be my groomsmen?”  
  
Brian finishes off his fourth glass while Johnny hurriedly stammers out an affirmative, and then he finds Matt’s gaze on him, then the rest of the table’s gaze on him. The bunch of fucking joking assholes. “You’re fucking priceless, dude,” Brian snaps.  
  
He’s usually a happy drunk, a funny drunk, a loving horny drunk. Right now, though? He’s only beginning to make the slide from buzzed to actually drunk, and he’s just fucking pissed off and sad. What’s wrong with him? Maybe he just needs more alcohol. He makes a grab for another bottle, ready to pour himself that fifth glass, but finds Zack slowly and carefully taking his wine glass away from him.  
  
“Fucking… Stop that,” Brian tells him, making a grab for it. Zack’s face twists up, angry.  
  
“What was ‘you’re priceless’ supposed to mean?” Matt cuts in.  
  
“That you’re dumb, and you don’t know what you want,” Brian tells him, making for the wine glass again.  
  
“What has gotten into you?” Zack snaps at him.  
  
“You!” Brian yells, fully aware that he’s making a scene, just not caring. Maybe he’s drunker than he realized. “You, taking my fucking glass!”  
  
“It would appear you’ve already had too many,” Zack says.  
  
“Fine,” Brian barks, standing up. He grabs the bottle, only half full, and finishes, “I’ll just drink out of the damn bottle!” He wobbles a bit as he goes to leave the table, and has to steady himself with a hand on the top of Michelle’s head. He can hear Johnny trying to stifle his laughter.  
  
“Sit your ass back down here!” Zack protests from behind him.  
  
“Don’t talk to me like that! I’m not a child, and you’re definitely not my mother!” Brian squawks, stopping and turning around to point a finger at him. “I don’t know how you get that one confused all the time, all things considered!”  
  
Johnny covers his face with his hands at that, shoulders shaking in laughter, apparently unable to keep it together anymore. The rest of the table is oddly silent, though, until Val quietly speaks up, “Zack, leave him alone.”  
  
“What?!” Zack starts, turning on her instead. “Shouldn’t you be chastising _him_? I mean, he’s the one who’s shit-faced in your dining room!”  
  
“I’m not shit-faced,” Brian tells him. “Not yet. I’m working on it.”  
  
“See?!” Zack says, hands in the air.  
  
“After everything, just…” Val says, trailing off, and Brian realizes that Matt must have told her what had happened. _After everything…_ “After everything, if he wants to get drunk just, just leave him alone.”  
  
“What?” Zack snaps, repeating himself. Brian can only laugh, because he’s already aware of what is about to happen. It’s inevitable now, they’re on a downward spiral. “After everything?! What the hell, he has a fucking cush life…”  
  
“Fuck you,” Brian stops laughing long of enough to say. The fucking bastard. He then sing-songs, “She knows something you don’t know.”  
  
“What the hell?” Zack repeats, looking at Val. But Val’s eyes are now on Brian.  
  
In fact, the whole table’s eyes are now on Brian. Brian suddenly realizes that everyone at the table knows, even Michelle—everyone but Zack. He laughs, and he laughs some more. “What the fuck, you didn’t tell him what happened?” Matt snarls.  
  
“What?” Johnny parrots, looking wholly confused. “You didn’t tell him?”  
  
“You didn’t tell him…” Val and Michelle chorus together, more of an exasperated statement than a question.  
  
“Tell him?” Zack says, then turns startled green eye to Brian. “Tell me? You didn’t tell me? Tell me what?”  
  
And Brian, no, he just can’t… Everyone at the table is looking around at each other, shocked. Looking between Brian and Zack, sympathetic. Looking at Lacey, awkwardly. Brian raises his wine bottle to Zack in a mock toast, and says, “I’ll let them catch you up. Since I know they’re going to.”  
  
Then he turns on his heels and bangs out the front door, wine bottle still firmly in hand.  
  
~*~  
  
Brian only sits alone on the curb for five minutes before he hears the front door of the house open and close behind him. He assumes it’s Zack, so he yells over his shoulder, “Go back inside!”  
  
But then he hears high heels clicking on the concrete, and sees a blue sundress in his peripheral. “It’s me,” Lacey tells him needlessly as she sits down on the curb next to him. “And I’m not going back inside. I’m going to sit with you.”  
  
“What a martyr,” Brian gripes, and takes another swig from the wine bottle. He’s lost count of how many long pulls of wine he’s had since he’s been sitting out here. The bottle is noticeably lighter in his hand, though he doesn’t quite feel smashed yet. Not like he wants to feel. It’ll hit him soon enough, he knows.  
  
“You don’t need to be out here having a pity party by yourself,” Lacey says, then giggles a bit. “That, and they were trying to discuss what had happened to you without actually saying what happened aloud, since I was at the table. You have good friends, they didn’t air all your dirty laundry in front of someone who didn’t know you—or as far as they were concerned, someone who didn’t know you.”  
  
Brian laughs, says, “Good friends.” Then, “What the fuck are you doing here anyway? Dating fucking Johnny… short shit.”  
  
“I know, I—“ Lacey starts, then sighs. “I swear, if I had known, I would have never accepted you as a patient. But I didn’t—I mean, he talked about a ‘Brian’ and a ‘Zack’ from time to time, but…”  
  
“And that didn’t clue you in?” Brian complains, rolling his eyes.  
  
“You know, it probably would have if he had mentioned that this ‘Brian and Zack’ that he was talking about were in a relationship, but he never did,” she said, then laughs. “And how many Brian’s and Zack’s are there around, you think? We’re in Cali. It just never occurred to me.”  
  
And Brian figures she has a point. He shrugs, and takes another drink.  
  
She speaks up again after a pause, says, “Zack seems very nice, though.” Then, with a little grin. “And quite handsome.”  
  
“And a giant nag,” Brian snaps, frowning down at the pavement between his feet.  
  
“He’s just concerned about you, because he cares about you,” Lacey says. “That’s apparent to anyone—even people who _aren’t_ psychiatrists.”  
  
Brian sighs heavily, then admits. “I wanted to leave. I went to his car and looked for the keys. I was going to drive home and fucking leave him here. But he must have the keys in his pocket, because they aren’t in the car.”  
  
Lacey echoes his sigh, and says, “You don’t need to be driving right now anyway. You’ve had a lot to drink.”  
  
“And I want a cigarette so bad,” Brian continues, whining. “Of course there’s none in his car. It’s _his_ car. He doesn’t smoke—at least not anymore. And I didn’t bring any because he doesn’t approve. And I care _so fucking much_ about his fucking approval. But look where that gets me.”  
  
“You need to talk to him,” Lacey says firmly. “And I’m saying that as your friend now, not your therapist.”  
  
“You’re still my fucking therapist,” he says, and takes a drink.  
  
“We’ll get to that in a minute,” she says with a sigh, but then continues. “You need to talk to him. It’s not fair to either of you for you to be holding onto these things alone.”  
  
“Pfft,” Brian says. Then, “What do you mean, ‘we’ll get to that in a minute’?”  
  
Lacey sighs again. “Technically, I should refer you to another therapist at this point, since there is a personal conflict,” she says.  
  
Brian’s stomach flips, and not from the alcohol. The thought of having to start over again, make these same steps he’s made with her but with another therapist? Having to tell a new therapist all of the things he’s already broached with Lacey, trying to convince himself once again that it’s alright to talk about all of these personal, private problems? He’s already a wreck just considering it. “No,” he tells her simply, fingers going tight on the neck of the wine bottle.  
  
“I—Well, I was going to say all things considered,” she starts, picking and choosing her words. “Knowing how difficult it has been for you to open up—how difficult it still is—I feel like asking you to start over with a new counselor isn’t fair to you. So I’ll keep seeing you, but off the books.”  
  
“Wait,” Brian says. The alcohol must be kicking in, he thinks, because this doesn’t make sense. “You mean, like no appointments? Just talking?”  
  
Lacey nods, says “I can’t in good faith call you my patient and charge you when I’m dating someone who’s clearly one of your good friends. But I can’t leave you out in the cold either, so… I only see one option.”  
  
“Well, thank you—I guess,” Brian says, and nods, but he has to quickly stop when the motion makes him dizzy. Yes, the alcohol has definitely hit him. “Who woulda thought? You and Johnny. Short shit,” he says.  
  
She smiles gently. “Yeah…”  
  
As if on cue, he hears the front door open behind him again. He cranes his head around to look, finds both Zack and Johnny exiting the house and walking down to the curb. Johnny looks tired while Zack looks, well…  
  
Zack looks fucking heartbroken.  
  
Brian turns back around, seals his lips to the mouth of the wine bottle, and drinks deep. He feels Lacey’s small hand on his back, patting him kindly, before she stands up from the curb. He listens to her heels click on the concrete as she walks back toward Johnny and Zack, listens to the sound of their voices as they speak to each other in hushed undertones. He sighs, and takes another drink. The wine bottle is almost empty.  
  
He hears footsteps again, then feels Zack’s hand on his shoulder. He flinches despite himself, hard enough that Zack notices, and the man pulls his hand away. Zack sighs, says, “Come on, babe. Let’s get you home.”  
  
“Yeah, gotta get me home,” Brian says, laughing at the perceived connotation. “Gotta get me home… Gotta fuck me good.”  
  
“Stop it,” Zack tells him quietly, and Johnny clears his throat awkwardly from behind him. Brian fights for something else to say, but then Zack is looping a hand under his armpit and hauling him up off the pavement. Brian stumbles into Zack as he gets to his feet, and ends up leaning heavily against the man’s shoulder. Finds himself looking into Zack’s pretty green eyes, so open yet forlorn.  
  
Brian is lost. He’s aware that they’re both standing on the curb in front of Matt’s house, that Johnny and Lacey are both somewhere nearby, but he’s drunk and depressed and both physically and emotionally drained. He touches Zack’s face with his hand, and says softly, sadly, “Zack, I wanna go home.”  
  
“Okay, then, let’s go,” Zack says. Zack helps him into the car, and Brian watches through the window as the man says one last goodbye to Johnny and Lacey. Then Zack is climbing into the driver’s seat in starting up the engine.  
  
Brian leans his head against the passenger side window and closes his eye.  
  
~*~  
  
The drive home is unpleasant, to say the least.  
  
It’s only ten minutes—but ten minutes during which Zack tries to broach the delicate subject with Brian twice, then has to make an emergency stop for Brian to lean out of the car and puke by the side of the road. Brian has drunk too much alcohol much too fast, and the movement of the car rolling down the road eventually turns his stomach beyond the point of being able to swallow it down.  
  
When they finally get to the apartment, Brian bursts out the car and up to the front door before realizing that Zack has the keys. He’s left waiting awkwardly as Zack locks the car up and comes up behind him, and he scratches nervously at his biceps as Zack unlocks the door to the apartment.  
  
“I’m going to take Ichabod out. I’ll be right back,” Zack says tiredly. He seems to have given up on Brian for now, something that Brian is glad for. Brian nods at him, watching silently as the man grabs the leash and the dog before heading back out the door.  
  
Brian feels nervous, and useless, and filthy. So he goes into the bathroom, strips down, and gets into the shower—his usual habit when he’s feeling this way, like the whore that he is. He grabs a clean washcloth to take with him as he goes and starts scrubbing heatedly at his skin once under the hot water. He leans up against the cool tiles of the shower wall to ground himself, to keep the floor beneath his drunken feet, and tries to rinse the taste of vomit out of his mouth.  
  
“What’re you doing?” Zack’s voice, sounding surprised, concerned. He’s back from taking the dog out. “You just took a shower before we left for Matt’s. Get out of there.”  
  
“Leave me alone,” Brian says, his voice slurring a bit. He has his eyes closed, his head leaning against the wall as he scrubs at his skin, and he doesn’t open up his eyes.  
  
He hears Zack sigh, then hears the toilet lid being lowered. He opens his eyes then, sees Zack sitting down on top of the toilet, looking both exhausted and worried. Ichabod sits down at his feet, leaning up against Zack’s sneakers.  
  
Brian groans, repeats, “Leave me alone!”  
  
“I’m not going to leave you alone in the shower while you’re this drunk,” Zack says, agitated. “So you can fall and hit your head and drown…”  
  
“I’m not going to drown in the shower,” Brian snaps. “Idiot.”  
  
Zack sighs, but then it’s oddly silent. At least until Zack speaks up again, “Why? I’m right here, I’m always right here for you. Why?”  
  
And Brian knows what he’s asking. He doesn’t answer, just takes the washcloth and scrubs harder at his skin, scrubs so hard that it burns.  
  
“Stop that,” Zack reprimands softly, watching him wash himself. “You’re making red marks on your skin—it’s not good for you.”  
  
“I’m dirty,” Brian counters, because this is clear to him. He can feel hands on him, fingers searching, men whom he doesn’t know and doesn’t like and doesn’t want touching him—these men are everywhere and all over him. So he scrubs at his skin, trying to remove them.  
  
“You just showered!” Zack says, frustrated.  
  
“No,” Brian says. And it’s because he’s drunk, it has to be, the words come out of his mouth so easily. “I’m dirty. Filthy and disgusting. A giant, slutty whore…”  
  
And Zack seems at a loss. “What?” he finally asks, sounding confused.  
  
“What, did you forget?” Brian asks, starting to laugh. Apparently he still is a funny drunk, he just has a warped since of humor. “Dontcha remember how we met? Damn.”  
  
“Brian, don’t,” Zack starts, but Brian has already begun unloading, begun running his mouth, and now he can’t stop.  
  
“I know they told you what happened,” he says, still leaning up against the shower wall. He scrubs his arm a few times for good measure, then continues. “Matt knows because they have the whole fucking thing on video—get that one, he got to watch me servicing some other dude, fucking hell…”  
  
“Brian, that wasn’t—that was _rape_ ,” Zack tries, but Brian isn’t even fazed.  
  
“Really? Because he did that shit all the time,” Brian says, laughing again. “Paid me fifty-bucks to fuck my mouth—and damn it, I’d gag, and couldn’t breathe, and my eyes would water, it was fucking horrible. I hated it. And he wasn’t the only one either—you’d be surprised how many guys are into that shit…”  
  
“Brian…” Zack’s voice is heartbroken.  
  
“What, is this hard to listen to?” Brian snaps. He shuts his eyes against the wall, shivering. Memories are flooding him, things he tries not to think about, but they’re all there screaming at him now. “Most of the time I would say ‘no’ to the crazy shit—like the fucked up, no-fucking-way shit. But dude, things got hard sometimes. I didn’t have guys clamoring for my time—there were two cheaper herpes-ridden fuckboys a couple of corners down, if you didn’t care about that shit—and a lot of men didn’t like the tattooed look. I fucking got hungry sometimes, okay?”  
  
“Brian…” Zack again. Brian doesn’t even stop.  
  
“I let this dude stick a rod down my dick once,” he says, relishing in the shocked look on Zack’s face. “Sounding, I guess he called it? I figured I could handle it, and I did, but fuck it hurt like hell. Like, screaming kind of hurt. Like, hurt for days after. Never fucking again, I said.  
  
“And I had guys piss on me before—fucking made me sick. But it was easy to do, not like it hurt me, I’d had worse. But I can still fucking remember it, fucking remember what they called me—that was really the worse. The fucking name-calling. I hated that shit—I’m not a ‘dirty little slut’, or a ‘filthy cumguzzler’, and I’m certainly not a fucking toilet.”  
  
“Brian…” Zack again. And again, Brian doesn’t stop.  
  
“And do you know how many times I was torn?” he asks, but then, “Of course, because you’ve commented on it before. My ass is fucking _scarred_ from allowing men to fuck me like some sort of plaything…”  
  
“You’re not…” Zack starts, but…  
  
“Don’t fucking patronize me—don’t _lie_ ,” Brian interrupts, cutting his eyes over to finally look at Zack again. The man is staring at the floor, looking downright inconsolable. It softens Brian for some reason, sobering him the tiniest bit. He continues, easier now, “I know I have fissure scars. You’ve seen them—I can feel them.”  
  
Zack nods absently, though doesn’t answer this time. Brian takes a breath, then lets it out slowly. The fight in him has slipped away suddenly, leaving him feeling weak and drained. He’d probably feel embarrassed if he wasn’t still drunk, but the alcohol has dulled his reserves. As is, he just doesn’t care.  
  
Brian sighs quietly, stumbling around to face the showerhead. He’s unsteady on his feet, and he can see Zack lean toward him from the toilet as if waiting for him to slip and fall. But he manages to turn around and brace his hands against the wall, thrusting his face under the showerhead. The water beats down against him, warm and almost comforting.  
  
“I didn’t know…” Zack says finally after a long, deafening silence. “You never tell me… I thought we were past this.”  
  
And Goddamnit, Brian had thought they were too. “I thought…” he starts, but the shower is beating down in his face, and into his mouth. He has to turn to the side a bit and spit before continuing, “I thought I was. Then all of a sudden I wasn’t.”  
  
Zack’s quiet for a moment, then, “Because of the man? That attacked you?” Though the tone of his voice says he already knows otherwise. Damn him for being intuitive.  
  
Brian shakes his head, negative. Zack nods, understanding.  
  
“Did something else happen?” Zack asks, and then when Brian shakes his head again, “I swear to God, Brian, don’t you dare fucking lie to me.”  
  
“I swear,” Brian says, desperately. He just wants Zack to understand. He wants Zack to be okay. “It just—happened. I just… I dunno.”  
  
Zack sighs, then stands up. Brian panics.  
  
“Don’t leave!” he calls, wide eyes following Zack.  
  
Zack looks startled. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says, taking two steps across the room to grab Brian’s towel off of the rack. He holds it up to show Brian, then says, “Come on, get out of there. You’re not dirty in any way, shape, or form.”  
  
Brian sighs, wanting to argue, but he turns the knobs for the shower instead, the water shutting off abruptly. Zack holds the towel out for him, and Brian gingerly steps out of the shower, closing his eyes as Zack wraps him up in the towel then holds onto him from behind.  
  
“I love you,” Zack tells him quietly, rubbing his arms through the towel to help dry him. “That’s all that matters—at least to me. You’re all that matters… I don’t know how else to make you understand that.”  
  
“And I don’t understand ~that~,” Brian says. “After everything I’ve done—that you _know_ I’ve done—how can you…?”  
  
“Brian…” And Zack sounds so sad. “It’s all in the past, it doesn’t matter—not to me, it doesn’t change the way I feel. I knew your past wasn’t spotless when I first fell for you—hell, I knew when I first approached you. I’m not innocent in this either, you know? Like you said, don’t you remember how we met?”  
  
“That’s not…” Brian starts, but it’s his turn to be cut off.  
  
“There’s not much you could do even now that would change how I feel,” Zack says, interrupting him. “I might get angry or upset sometimes—and you don’t always like how I act either, mind you, so don’t start arguing. But I love you, and you’d have to work hard to change that.”  
  
And of course, he has to push it. “What if I…” he says, thinking, “What if I cheated on you?”  
  
The comforting feeling of Zack smoothing the towel over his skin stops abruptly, and he asks, “Have you cheated on me?”  
  
“No, of course not, but…?” Brian says, still expecting an answer.  
  
“Then why the hell?” Zack says, but once again continues drying him off. He answers him nonetheless, “It would be hard to forgive you—and it would be even harder to learn to trust you again. But yes, I would still love you.”  
  
Brian thinks this is ridiculous, but tries again. “What if I… Hmm, what if I hit you?”  
  
“Brian, that’s not funny.”  
  
“I’m serious!” Brian presses.  
  
And he can literally feel the exasperation dripping off of the man. Still, he answers, “Well, you’ve smacked my ass a few times and I still love you.”  
  
“Zack.”  
  
“You’re not going to hit me, so just stop,” Zack says, annoyed.  
  
And Brian realizes he’s not going to get anywhere with this one, so he tries one more time. “What if I killed someone?” he asks, glancing back at Zack over his shoulder.  
  
Amused green eyes look back at him, and Zack answers, “Well, if it was that guy who attacked you—or any of those men who’ve laid a hand on you—I’d help you hide the body.”  
  
Brian laughs drunkenly. “What?” he asks.  
  
“You heard me,” Zack answers, pulling away to hang the towel back up. “Now if you’re quite done trying to figure out ways to get rid of me, why don’t we get you to bed. You’re still pretty smashed.”  
  
“I’m sobering up a little bit,” Brian argues, even though lying down and passing out is probably his best choice at this point.  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Zack says, ushering him into the bedroom.  
  
Brian falls down face first onto the bed, still naked and not really caring, and hears Zack chuckle at him. He drags himself up into his spot and snuggles into his pillow, cracking an eye to look over at Zack. The man’s standing by the bed, still clothed, watching him with a little sad smile.  
  
“Don’t do this to me again,” Zack tells him quietly, though it holds no heat. “I’m always _right here_. For you.”  
  
Brian doesn’t answer him. He just shuts his eyes, ready to pass out.  
  
“I’ll be in the living room, I’m going to get on my tablet,” Zack says. “Just yell if…”  
  
“No, please!” Brian gasps, eyes flying open. Then tries to calm himself before continuing. “Please stay with me…”  
  
Zack frowns, concerned, but says, “Yeah, sure, of course. Just give me one minute.”  
  
So Brian watches as Zack meanders into the bathroom, listens to the sounds of him changing out of his clothes and taking a piss in the toilet. He feels the mattress dip as Zack climbs into his side of the bed, and watches the man grab the mystery novel he’s been reading up off the nightstand, as well as his eyeglasses. He watches him slide his glasses on his face, then flip the lamp on, a dim light to read by.  
  
Brian closes his eyes again, ready to fall asleep, but then he feels a warm hand against the small of his back, lightly caressing his bare skin. And he’s terrified for a second—terrified that Zack is trying to initiate, trying to ask him for sex—because he can’t, not right now, not after _everything_. But when he opens his eyes again he finds Zack immersed in his novel, the hand that isn’t holding his book idly touching Brian’s skin as though he isn’t even aware he’s doing so.  
  
“I love you,” Brian mumbles to him, half-drunk and half-asleep and heart so suddenly full of emotion for the other man.  
  
Zack glances over at him with a small smile, pulling his hand away just for a moment to turn the page of his book. But then his hand is back, fingers trailing along Brian’s spine, and Brian can’t help but shiver at the sensation. “Love you too, babe. Now go to sleep,” Zack tells him quietly.  
  
And so Brian closes his eye one final time, feeling more relieved than he has in months, and falls asleep to dreams of Zack’s feather-lite, calming caresses.


	6. Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~But worst of all, he’s not drunk anymore, and everything from last night—everything he did and everything he said—is all coming back to him with startling clarity.~

Brian wakes up the next morning with an intense hangover—his head pounding and his stomach sour—and a hazy-eyed glance at the alarm clock reveals it to be 4:30 AM. He groans and presses his face into his pillow, not wanting to get out of bed yet. He can remember getting up woozily a couple of times early in the night, still drunk, the alcohol making its way through his system and forcing him to the bathroom. He must have fallen into a deep sleep after that, though, because now he’s desperate to relieve himself again, his bladder full and aching.  
  
But worst of all, he’s not drunk anymore, and everything from last night—everything he did and everything he said—is all coming back to him with startling clarity.  
  
He groans again, then rolls to the side and out of bed. He holds his forehead in his hand, his headache even more punishing now that he’s standing, and shuffles through the dark to the bathroom. The toilet seat is still up from his earlier trips to the bathroom, and he’s still nude, having fallen asleep naked. So he stands in front of the commode, not bothering to take himself in hand and actually aim, just makes sure he’s hanging over the bowl before letting go with a long sigh.  
  
He stands in front of the bathroom mirror after, the lights off, his reflection dark and brooding. He takes a deep breath, holding his face in his hands again as his headache throbs incessantly and his stomach lurches uncomfortably. He wonders idly if he’s going to be sick, and he hovers over the sink for several minutes waiting to vomit before finally deciding that he’s alright. So he rummages through the medicine cabinet, swallows something for his headache and his nausea, then heads back into the bedroom.  
  
He thinks he’s managed to sneak through quiet and unnoticed, but as he sits back down on the mattress, he feels Zack roll over on the bed with a lazy little sigh. Brian glances back at him, and Zack gives him a sleepy smile, says, “I didn’t think you were ever going to stop pissing.”  
  
Brian can’t help but chuckle, which only makes his head hurt worse. His laughter trails off into a groan, and he answers, “I’m never drinking again.”  
  
“I’ve heard that one before,” Zack tells him, watching as Brian settles back down in the bed. “I heard you in the medicine cabinet—did you take something?”  
  
 _Fucking nosey bitch…_ Brian thinks, but answers nonetheless, “Yeah, I took some ibuprofen. And there was some Zofran left over from when you had that stomach flu last year—mighta been expired, I didn’t look.”  
  
Zack hums at him, reaching over to drag his knuckles gently along Brian’s belly. “Have you thrown up again?” he asks.  
  
 _For fuck’s sake…_ Brian thinks. “No, I haven’t,” he answers, then, “I’m fine, Zack. Really. Just hungover.”  
  
Zack hums again, though when Brian glances over, the man’s green eyes are still open and regarding him worriedly. Zack speaks up, “You should drink some water—it’ll help.”  
  
“Zaaack…” Brian groans, finally becoming fed up. “It’s 4:30 in the morning. I’m tired, I feel like shit, and I’m going back to sleep. Just leave me alone.”  
  
Zack sighs, looking disappointed and still very concerned, but rolls over in the bed away from him regardless. Brian stares at his back, his tattoos, and feels guilty immediately.  
  
“Just…” Brian says. “It’s okay. I’m okay. Don’t worry.”  
  
“Okay,” Zack answers simply, ending the short conversation.  
  
Brian dozes afterward, the medicine easing his discomfort, but soon enough Zack’s alarm goes off. Brian clenches his eyes shut, his headache sparking again at the noise, and watches silently as Zack gets up out of the bed to shower and get dressed.  
  
Brian sighs—he’d forgot that Zack was working today. He’s secretly happy that he’ll be gone, that he won’t be there to talk about last night. Will he eventually be home and try to talk? Of course. But at least Brian can postpone it for a while.  
  
He doesn’t know why Zack likes to talk all the time, wants to talk about _everything_. Ever since their relationship has become serious, Zack wants to know every minute detail of Brian’s life, wants to know every thought that goes through Brian’s head. And Brian hates talking, especially now, some things he just doesn’t want to share. Some things he _can’t_ share.  
  
He just wishes there was some way to convey all of that to Zack.  
  
He gets up later once Zack has left for work, thirsty and craving a cigarette, and he chugs a full glass of water over the sink before grabbing his pack of Marlboros and heading outside. He lights up with all intentions of chain smoking, but the sun is beating down on him, blinding him and making his headache worse. He should have worn his sunglasses, he realizes idly, and he lets himself back inside the apartment before even finishing the first cigarette.  
  
But then there is nothing to do, no one there. He gets another glass of water, drinking slower this time, while his mind begins to run in frantic and hysterical circles. What is Zack thinking right now? Is he upset with Brian? Does he pity Brian? Is he embarrassed by Brian? Is he appalled by Brian? Maybe all of the above? But he’s such a good man, such a fucking _nice_ son of a bitch that he’d never say anything. He’d never actually tell Brian what Brian already knows—that he’s a whore, and he’s disgusting.  
  
Brian paces in the living room, sits down on the couch for a moment, pets Ichabod’s soft black fur. Then he has a sudden, desperate thought.  
  
He’d kept Lacey’s business card, the one she’d written her cell phone on, in his car. He’d been afraid that if he’d brought it in the house Zack might find it, and not only did he not want the man finding out he was seeing a therapist, he didn’t want him suspecting anything deceitful. He had already accused Brian of cheating at that point in time, and he’d figured the last thing he’d needed was for Zack to find someone else’s cell number on him.  
  
But Brian finds himself grabbing his cell suddenly and dashing back out the apartment door. He winces as the sun hits his face and his headache spikes—damn, forgot his fucking sunglasses again. He wrenches the door open to his car and rummages in the glovebox until he finds her number. Then he sits down in the seat, holding his phone in one hand and the number in the other, and panics once again.  
  
Is he really going to call her? Does he even want to call her? He must want to call her since he ran out of the apartment like a madman. But then what? What can she even do to help him right now?  
  
He tries to talk himself out of it for a few more moments before finally dialing the number and hitting the green button.  
  
Lacey picks up after several rings with a, “Hello, Lacey Franklin.”  
  
A professional answer. Brian wonders suddenly if she’s working, if he’s interrupted someone else’s therapy session even though it’s a Sunday. He stammers out a reply, “I-I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have called…”  
  
“Wait, who’s this?” comes Lacey’s quick answer. She doesn’t recognize his voice over the phone, yet she clearly recognizes the stressed anxious tone. “Are you alright?”  
  
“It’s Brian,” he says. “I shouldn’t have called—I don’t know why I did…”  
  
But Lacey cuts him off. “Brian! It’s okay, don’t worry about it. You want to meet up somewhere and have breakfast? Talk?”  
  
“No, I—“ Brian says, already kicking himself for even considering calling. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”  
  
“It’s not a bother. I’m just doing housework,” Lacey says cheerfully. “You’ll give me an excuse to postpone the laundry. Just give me a few to get dressed and such.”  
  
“Uh…” Brian says, trying to find a way to backtrack. And failing. “Okay. Me too. A few minutes.”  
  
“Alright. Meet you at about 10:30? Late breakfast at KeKe’s?” she says.  
  
And she’s so direct, no nonsense, decisive and unwavering. It’s comforting, and Brian thinks vaguely that she really is kind of perfect for Johnny—the man so full of bullshit he’s overflowing with it. Brian nods and answers, “Yeah. I’ll meet you then.”  
  
He hangs up without bothering to say ‘goodbye’, and goes back into the apartment to get dressed.  
  
~*~  
  
Brian arrives at the restaurant before Lacey, so he leans against the side of his car and smokes until he sees her pull into the parking lot. He throws his cigarette on the pavement then, stepping on it to put it out, and waits for Lacey to park. Soon enough she’s sauntering up to him, purse slung over her shoulder and a smile on her face, and he tries to smile back even though it feels forced.  
  
“Brian, how’re you this morning?” she asks. He shrugs in reply, stepping forward to open the door for her, and they head inside. The restaurant is mostly empty, only a few tables already occupied, and they’re seated almost immediately.  
  
Brian glances through the menu lazily once they’re seated. Not only is he not hungry, but he’s been here a million times before with Zack—he already knows what they serve. He figures he’ll just have some coffee, maybe something light to eat, some fruit or toast.  
  
“Hungover?” Lacey asks, a tinge of amusement in her voice. Brian glances up at her, not quite sure what gave him away, but then she motions at him, says, “You’ve got the ‘I’m wearing sunglasses inside and I want to die’ thing going on…”  
  
He chuckles despite himself, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t taken the aforementioned glasses off when he came inside—at least he’d actually remembered them this time around. He goes to take them off, but Lacey preempts him.  
  
“Don’t worry about it—leave them on if the light’s bothering you,” she says. “I don’t think we’re here to impress anyone.”  
  
And Brian shrugs, figuring she’s right. The waitress comes then to take their order, and Brian just orders a coffee, stomach still queasy. Lacey puts in her order, and then the waitress is gone, leaving them alone once again.  
  
“You were really packing it away last night,” Lacey mentions. Brian shrugs again—his favorite move for the morning. “Do you normally drink a lot?” she presses.  
  
“Are you asking me if I’m an alcoholic?” Brian snaps, probably a little too loudly all things considered. No one looks over, though, and Lacey just watches him calmly. God, he’s come to hate that look—completely unfazed, just coolly expecting an actual answer. He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, and continues, “No, I—I probably drink too much sometimes. I used to when I was younger, before everything, you know… Before I worked the streets. I drank a lot, I did drugs—mostly weed granted, but some other stuff too. Harder stuff. That’s when I first started smoking too…”  
  
“Before?” Lacey questions.  
  
“Yeah,” he answers, realizing they’ve never discussed anything other than his whoring and his relationship with Zack. She doesn’t know about his parents passing, about him spiraling down, why he started whoring in the first place. And fuck no, he’s not going through this now. He clears his throat, and says, “I wasn’t a very good kid—I was angry and I fucked up a lot…”  
  
Lacey hums in acknowledgement, then asks “Would you say you have an addictive personality?”  
  
“I don’t know, maybe? Probably? Yes?” he tries, then laughs, actually thinking about it. “I picked up cigarettes so fast—was smoking two packs a day within a couple of months of putting the first one in my mouth. And I’d get so fucking jumpy and bitchy if I ended up not being able to get my hands on them—and I ended up on the streets whoring, I mean, it happened, I’d not be able to get a cigarette when I wanted one. But trying to come off of them? Fuck, it was maddening—thank God I had Zack. I don’t know what I would have done trying to quit by myself. I would have given up.”  
  
“You quit cold turkey?” she asks.  
  
“No, Zack told me how to wean myself off them,” Brian answers.  
  
“Good,” Lacey says. Then, “I just worry with how much you were drinking. I mean, it’s okay to drown your sorrows every once in a while, as they say, but…”  
  
“Everyone worries about me,” Brian laments, the conversation coming to a lull as their coffee is brought to the table. He wraps his hands around the coffee cup, the warm rich smell actually appetizing, so he takes a hesitant drink. It’s comforting to his unsettled stomach.  
  
“Everyone worries about you?” Lacey questions once the waitress has left, idly stirring cream into her coffee. Then hedges, “Does ‘everyone’ actually mean ’Zack’, by any chance?”  
  
Brian sighs, nodding, fingertips playing with the handle on his coffee cup. When he offers no further input, Lacey steps in again.  
  
“Did you want to talk about what happened last night? After you both left?” she asks quietly, encouragingly. And of course he does—she already knows that, why else would he have called? It’s glaringly obvious. He wraps his hands around his cup again, suddenly nervous. She gently presses, “Did you both get a chance to talk?”  
  
“We—I—“ he starts, then trails off. He picks his coffee up and takes a drink, stalling, trying to gather his thoughts and his wits. Lacey waits patiently, offering no help, and so he’s forced to proceed. “I got home and I lost it. I guess ‘cause I was drunk and not thinking right—I got in the shower and he came in trying to reason with me, and I just became fucking… I don’t even know. Hysterical. Fucking started telling him all this shit he didn’t need to know—that I never wanted him to know…”  
  
“Like what?” Lacey cuts in. And of course she would ask.  
  
“Things,” he says. He feels jumpy suddenly, his skin crawling. “You don’t really need to know either.”  
  
“Things about yourself?” Lacey asks. “I mean, we’ve been talking about being more open, right? It’s not bad to share…”  
  
“There are some things that don’t need to be shared,” Brian interrupts.  
  
“Why?” Lacey countered. “Who is it that is upset with the information? You, or him?”  
  
“Him!” Brian answers much too loudly. An elderly couple several tables away glance over, so he tries to gather himself together, tries to lower his voice. He leans over toward Lacey, and continues, “Him… And me, but him too. He was so fucking sad… He just doesn’t understand. He never has, not since the beginning. When he came to me that first fucking time, when I was the whore on the corner, it was like he thought he was with a lover. He was considerate, and kind, and… Fuck, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”  
  
“Because you clearly need to unload to someone,” Lacey says, trailing off as her breakfast is brought to the table. She thanks the waitress before the woman moves off back to the kitchens, then turns back to Brian. “Can I ask you something kinda related—kinda unrelated?” she starts, picking up her fork. When Brian nods, she asks, “Have you ever asked him why he went to see you in the first place? I mean, as a prostitute?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says, then when Lacey raises her eyebrows, clearly interested, “You have to promise me since you’ve met everyone and, well, you’re dating Johnny—you can’t tell any of them what I’m telling you about him, okay?”  
  
“Brian, my professional promise still stands, even if we’re meeting off the books,” she tells him sincerely. “Anything you say to me I hold in confidence. I’m not going to tell anyone anything about anything, I swear it.”  
  
Brian sighs, nodding, then answers, “Zack was in a bad relationship before he met me—or came to me, paid for me, hahaha… Like, abusive kind of bad—“ The look on Lacey’s face is priceless, like she wants to stop and just psychoanalyze their whole situation. Brian plows on. “When I asked him, he told me he’d been terrified to be in another relationship, always felt pressured anytime he met someone else. But he was terrified of being alone too. At least, that’s pretty much it—I don’t remember his exact words…”  
  
“So his solution was to…” Lacey says, looking dumbfounded, “…hire a prostitute?”  
  
In hindsight it is laughable—Brian had commented on this on multiple occasions, usually pissing Zack off. “I know, right?” Brian says, chuckling. “He’s so smart and so dumb all at once.”  
  
Lacey laughs, starting in on her eggs and bacon. Brian grins, taking another sip of coffee, but his moment of fond laughter quickly fades as his nerves crawl over him again.  
  
“That’s why he doesn’t understand though,” Brian says. “He was with the asshole—the abusive son of a bitch—then he found me. And that’s it, that’s the story of his love life. He didn’t understand back then when he first found me, and he still doesn’t.”  
  
“Understand what?” Lacey prompts.  
  
Brian sighs, rubbing his temples. His headache is suddenly worse. “What a prostitute is. What being a prostitute is…”  
  
“Which is…?” she presses.  
  
“You’re so annoying,” he tells her, because she fucking is. She knows what he means, because he’s told her enough already about what he’s going through, about how he feels. But she always wants him to talk more, tell more, voice his fucking _feelings_. He huffs a sigh, opens his mouth to try to answer her, and ends up saying, “He fucking _kissed me_. We went to his car and I, well… I did what I was being paid for, then he kissed me. Do you even understand? And at that I—I fucking let him!”  
  
“And you didn’t do that?” Lacey asks after a beat of heavy silence. “Didn’t allow men to kiss you while you were working?”  
  
“Pfft!” Brian snorts. He’s stressed, and his heart is beginning to pound in his chest. He rubs at his forehead again, feeling the sweat there against his skin. “Never. No kissing. Not that they ever usually wanted to. It was about sex. Just sex. Only sex. Except Zack, who just made it into something else.”  
  
He lets go of his coffee cup, grinding his fingernails into the table instead. Lacey suddenly looks highly concerned, and she lets go of her silverware, reaching a hand out to him. Brian pulls away.  
  
“And then the second time,” he blurts, remembering it clear as day. He’s speaking too loudly, and the elderly couple from a few tables over are still there. He hopes they can’t hear him. “The second time—still a whore, the man doesn’t even know my real name—and he’s fucking doing the reacharound. Jacking me off. Which is also a never, not ever, no no no…”  
  
Lacey looks a little shocked, and she murmurs his name, reaching her hand out for him again. And again he pulls away.  
  
“I’m mean, unless it was a fetish thing,” he continues. “In which case, sure, if they wanted to pay me to rub one out, then lick it up off the ground, or smear it on my face, then sure whatever… But no, I’m not enjoying that shit. It’s sex, it’s nothing else, and I’m not enjoying it. I can fake it good, good enough to get me through, and if I gotta jerk off after because I got too worked up then so be it. I can handle it. But then Zack is just all—‘Come for me…’ in that fucking sexy voice. Still says that shit, fucking favorite thing to say…”  
  
“Brian,” Lacey says, voice concerned. She reaches for him once last time, and he flinches away, buries his face in his hands instead. She continues, “Be calm, it’s okay. Take a deep breath.”  
  
“I—I just…” Brian says, then inhales deep, exhales slowly. He tries to gather his thoughts, but they’re swirling in his head maddeningly. “He doesn’t understand,” he finally finishes, unsure what else to say.  
  
“It’s okay,” Lacey repeats, and Brian is about to yell at her, tell her that it is in fact _not_ okay. But then she says, “You’re okay, just quiet your mind.”  
  
Brian laughs into his hands. “Easier said than done.”  
  
He hears her hum consolingly. “Have you been having a problem with panic attacks?” she asks after a pause, then, “Or ever in the past?”  
  
“No,” Brian answers, pulling his hands away from his face with an annoyed sigh. “Why?”  
  
“Why?” she echoes, a sad little smile on her face. “It just seemed like you were about to have an attack—or actually having a mild one.”  
  
“What?” he says. He’s calming down now, and things seem clearer. He’s left more embarrassed than anything else, remembering clearly everything that he’s just told her, every private and horrifying thing.  
  
“Has that happened before?” she asks. Then, because she’s more intuitive than Brian wishes, “Is that what happened last night?”  
  
“Yeah, kinda,” he mumbles. “I guess. I got in the shower because I felt, well… bad. And he was trying to talk to me and—you know.”  
  
“Did you get short of breath? Or your heart start beating fast? Anything like that?” Lacey asks.  
  
“I honestly don’t remember,” Brian tells her. “I just remember blurting out a lot of things that I wish I hadn’t. Like now—like what I just told you.”  
  
“Like what?” Lacey asks. “Like you feel Zack doesn’t understand what you’re going through?”  
  
“No! For fuck’s sake,” Brian says, glancing around. The elderly couple is still seated a few tables over, and both man and women are pointedly not looking at Brian. He figures they must have overheard his tirade. He sighs, turning his gaze back to Lacey, and continues quietly, “Things like, shit… Like I let men rub my face in my own semen.”  
  
Lacey frowns. “Brian, I’m going out on a limb here,” she says, “but Zack is a grown man. I’m sure he’s not completely unaware of what you used to do.”  
  
Brian sighs, then shrugs. “I don’t understand how he isn’t totally disgusted by me…”  
  
“Have you told him that?” she asks. “Told him you feel that way?”  
  
“Uh, yes, actually,” he says, chuckling lightly. “I did last night, during my tantrum.”  
  
Lacey nods. “And what was his reply?”  
  
“You know—that he loves me, nothing else matters, my past doesn’t change things, yadda yadda,” Brian says, motioning idly with his hand and rolling his eyes.  
  
“And you don’t trust him?” Lacey asks.  
  
“Of course I do,” Brian says irritably. “I trust him with my life, but…”  
  
“Then maybe you should listen to what he says,” she counters, giving him a gentle smile, “and actually believe him when he tells you something important like that.”  
  
He opens his mouth, getting ready to shoot back a retort, but he comes up empty-handed. He wraps his hands back around his coffee mug, happy that the coffee still feels warm, and looks down at the table.  
  
“Give him a break, Brian. It seems like he really does care about you,” Lacey says. Then adds, “And while you’re at it, give yourself a break. You’re a good person—you have the right to be happy and to be loved. So don’t beat yourself down, you have no reason to.”  
  
She gives Brian a small encouraging smile, and Brian takes a deep breath, feeling somewhat mollified. Maybe, just maybe, she’s right.  
  
“Have you ever heard that saying—‘you need to learn to love yourself before someone else can love you’?” she asks, and continues when Brian nods. “This is a perfect example. You’re projecting your own feelings about yourself onto Zack. You need to not only remind yourself that these negative feelings you have about yourself are not valid—but that whatever negative feelings you are attributing to Zack are not his, they’re yours.”  
  
He picks his coffee back up, taking a sip, and finds himself thinking about those sad, green eyes.  
  
“Think about it this way. He views you the same way that you view him,” Lacey finishes with. “Which is?”  
  
“The man I love,” Brian answers quietly but without hesitation.  
  
Lacey gestures at him in a ‘there you go’ sort of manner, then goes back to her breakfast. “I’m so glad you answered that correctly,” she says after a beat. “The last patient I posed that question to said, ‘the son of a bitch I live with.’”  
  
Brian laughs, real and true, and it feels good. “Well, that too, but…” he says jokingly, before taking another sip of coffee.  
  
Lacey just gives him a stern look, though a grin quickly creeps onto her face. “Keep that one to yourself,” she says, wagging her fork at him.  
  
Brian grins and looks down into his coffee cup, feeling better than he has all week.  
  
~*~  
  
Brian just goes back to the apartment after talking with Lacey.  
  
He thinks about stopping by the gym, but he hadn’t brought any work-out clothes with him. And he thinks about stopping by the store, but he can’t think of anything that they actually need. So he decides to just be lazy, go home, and relax.  
  
He’s doing much better by the time Zack gets home that evening, his headache long gone and his stomach settled, leaving him famished. He has a pizza in the oven that he’s eagerly waiting on as he scrolls through facebook and watches television. Which is how Zack finds him when he comes home from work—on the couch with his laptop, in an old Metallica t-shirt and black boxers, Ichabod curled up next to him.  
  
“You look worlds better,” Zack comments as he comes over, stopping to pet Ichabod then run his fingers through Brian’s hair.  
  
“I feel worlds better,” Brian says, leaning up into Zack’s caress despite himself. Then, “There’s a pizza in the oven. It should be done soon enough.”  
  
“Aww, you’re cooking for me?” Zack asks jokingly, and Brian swats at him lightly, causing Zack to laugh and dart away. But the man doesn’t move for the bedroom then like Brian expects, doesn’t move to change out of his scrubs and clean up. Instead, he comes back to sit on the couch next to Brian, gently moving Ichabod over, and Brian knows what is coming next before the man even opens his mouth. “Can we talk?” Zack asks.  
  
“I’d rather not,” Brian says stubbornly, only meeting the man’s eye for a moment before looking away. He doesn’t want to look him in the eye. Those soft, sincere green eye could kill someone, Brian thinks.  
  
“Well, I want to,” Zack says tersely, and Brian can feel his hackles rising. “No,” Zack continues, “we _need_ to talk, now that you’re sober.”  
  
“I think I said more than enough crap last night,” Brian says with a self-deprecating laugh. Then, “What is up with you, anyway? You always want to talk. Always gotta talk about everything.”  
  
“Because I’m not a mind reader, Brian,” Zack answers with a roll of his eyes. “I can’t know what’s going on with you unless you _tell me_ what’s going on with you.”  
  
“Then I repeat—I think I said enough last night,” Brian says, exasperated. He goes to stand, but he’s stopped by a firm hand on his forearm. It’s startling at first, his heart racing at the sudden contact, but then he looks and sees green eyes, sees Zack, and breathes out in relief. He settles back down on the couch.  
  
“Well I have more to say,” Zack says. “You said last night that you didn’t understand how I can care about you—love you. I’ve been thinking about that all day, I just can’t—“ He takes a deep breath, then reaches over to take Brian’s hand, threading their fingers together. “I don’t want to think that I’m doing something to leave you feeling…”  
  
“It’s not you,” Brian says, cutting him off. “You’re not doing a damn thing. Except, you know, being you.”  
  
“And I don’t know what that means,” Zack says tiredly.  
  
“You know,” Brian answers with an exasperated sigh. “You’re _you_.”  
  
Zack shakes his head, opening his mouth to speak, but Brian cuts him off.  
  
“Are you not the least bit insulted when you look at me?” he asks finally, looking away. “Especially after last night when I just have diarrhea of the mouth and tell you all that fucked up shit that I never wanted to say to you, that I never wanted you to know, ever.”  
  
“That’s not—Brian, no. I love you. Period. The end,” Zack answers, squeezing Brian’s hand for emphasis. “What you’ve been through, what you’ve told me, it hurts. I hurt for you. But it certainly doesn’t ‘insult’ me.”  
  
Brian gives him an irritated huff and rolls his eyes. “I never wanted to tell you those things,” he laments.  
  
“What things?” Zack asks, then answers his own question. “About what you went through? Before? Before we met?” Brian nods tightly, knowing Zack is referring to the same thing Brian is. So Zack continues, “Brian, I’m not naïve. I know what you went through—maybe not all the details, no—but I also know you. We’ve been together long enough, I know you’re a private person, and I’m not going to push you for information you don’t want to give.  
  
“But I know, I’ve see the way you act, I notice things. I notice the things that bother you. I know that anything degrading or demeaning makes you uncomfortable—in or out of the bedroom—and I try my damnest not to put you in any kind of situation that might make you feel that way…”  
  
And Brian suddenly feels guilty—fuck, why does Zack worry about him so Goddamn much? “Zack, please, don’t,” he says.  
  
Zack just shakes his head and continues. “No, Brian, I want you to understand—I’m not fucking blind when it comes to you. You’ve shut down on me a couple of times, not often, but enough for me to notice. Enough for me to remember what bothers you. The sex got a little too rough once—I don’t think I was hurting you, at least fuck I hope I wasn’t—but you were done, I could tell, just shut down like I said. Did the same thing when I put my hand around your throat once—I wasn’t even going to press down, I wouldn’t do that to you. I was just touching, feeling, but it obviously freaked you out.”  
  
“Zack, don’t,” Brian repeats, embarrassed. “Stop, please. I’m sorry.”  
  
“Don’t apologize,” Zack answers softly. “I’m trying to tell you that I get it. I understand. Remember, I’ve been there too. I was with Alex for a long time—too long. If you climbed on top of me and tried to hold me down I’d probably, I dunno… I’d probably have the same kinda issue.”  
  
“Zack, I’m—“ Brian says, looking for the words. “Don’t tip-toe around me. I don’t want you to think I’m weak or… or a fucking pussy. I’m not!”  
  
“Babe, I know you’re not,” Zack says, reaching over and wrapping an arm around him, and Brian leans into him, reveling in his warmth. “You’re all man—you’re _my_ man. You’re strong, and you’re brave, and you’ve come through so much.”  
  
Brian bites his lip, wanting to say something depressive, something to shoot him down. But then he thinks about Lacey, and what she’d said. _Don’t project your own negative feelings onto him._ So he sighs, and he says, “I’m sorry, Zack. I’ve just been going through some shit. I don’t mean to be an ass.”  
  
“I know,” Zack answers, nodding. Then, with a wry grin, “Just two more things, then you can go back to being your no-talk, private self.”  
  
Brian chuckles. “Okay, shoot.”  
  
“The problems you’ve been having in the bedroom,” Zack starts with, and Brian can feel himself tensing. Zack squeezes him gently, finishes, “They have a little something to do with this, don’t they?”  
  
“Yeah, a little,” Brian gives, trying to shrug nonchalantly even though he’s mortified.  
  
“That’s kinda what I was thinking,” Zack answers. “Don’t worry about it—we’ll just go with the flow, okay? Whenever you feel like it, yeah?”  
  
“I don’t want to do that to you,” Brian says, and immediately feels Zack squeeze him affectionately again.  
  
“I think I’ll survive a while without sex,” Zack answers him amusedly.  
  
And there’s a lot Brian wants to say. _A while?_ he thinks vaguely. _Because right now, after what happened that night at work, never having sex again is sounding like the best plan to me._ He doesn’t voice his thoughts, though, just nods in acceptance.  
  
“One more thing,” Zack says, “and please don’t get angry but… Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist?”  
  
It’s a question that brings Brian up short, and Zack must feel him tense, because he rocks him gently, bumping their shoulders together. Brian swallows, trying to gather his thoughts. Does he admit to going behind Zack’s back? Does he lie? He doesn’t know…  
  
“I saw a therapist after leaving Alex,” Zack tells him. “It was really helpful. I mean, having friends and family is important—and I’m always here for you, no matter what. But there’s something different about seeing a therapist. Someone who is actually trained to help people going through these things.”  
  
Brian opens his mouth to lie, to tell him that he doesn’t want to or that he’ll think about it. But then he says, “I’ve actually already been seeing one.”  
  
Zack pulls away from him, and for a moment Brian panics, afraid that the man is angry. But the look on Zack’s face isn’t upset, rather surprised and interested.  
  
“I just…” Brian tries. “Everything was happening, and I felt like I needed to talk—hahaha, I know, that’s surprising. But I needed to talk to someone, and I just couldn’t talk to you.” And when Zack opens his mouth to argue, “And just don’t start—I couldn’t, okay? All of this is really hard for me. Talking about how I was freaking out over what I’ve been through, and our relationship, and sex, and… and how I _can’t get it up._ Okay, I couldn’t talk about that with you, I’m sorry.”  
  
Zack seems to understand, or at least he nods. “Do you think it’s been helping?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says. Then amends, “Or at least it was, before the incident…”  
  
“The incident?”  
  
“At the coffee shop,” Brian clarifies.  
  
“Oh,” Zack says, frowning. “Have you seen him since then? Your therapist, that is?”  
  
“Her—yeah, I’ve seen her,” Brian answers, then laughs self-deprecatingly. “I looked specifically for a woman. I couldn’t go and talk to a male therapist about having sex with other men. I dunno, maybe that’s dumb.”  
  
“No, that’s not dumb,” Zack says straightaway. Then, after a brief pause, “Please tell me you went through my health insurance, and you’re not paying the full price for appointments out of your own paycheck.”  
  
Brian can’t help but laugh at the tone of his voice—half exasperated and half afraid of the answer he’s going to get. “Yeah, I had to go through your paperwork and bills and shit to figure out how to look up doctors covered under the plan. I’m so sorry, I felt like a damn dirty dog…”  
  
“Don’t fucking apologize for that, I’m not mad,” Zack says, reaching over to pull playfully at Brian’s hair. The air between them is less intense now, more relaxed and normal. Brian is so relieved. Zack continues, “I would have been mad if you were like, ‘ah, nah, I’m paying $300 a session because I’m an asshole!’”  
  
He says it in a startling imitation of Brian’s own voice, and Brian can’t help but laugh, shoving teasingly at the other man. Zack stands then, grinning, and Brian stares up at him, suddenly realizing he’d forgotten one thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells him. “I’m sorry about last night—and for not telling you what happened.”  
  
Zack’s grin falls from his face, and for a moment Brian wishes he hadn’t brought it up. But then Zack answers, “Just don’t do it again, and we’re okay.”  
  
The timer for the oven goes off with a shrill beeping, causing Brian to jump. He’d forgotten all about the pizza he’d had cooking. He stands from the couch, motioning to the kitchen, and says, “Food.”  
  
“I’m going to go change, I’ll be right back,” Zack tells him. Brian nods, and heads for the kitchen, turning his back on the other man. He turns the timer off, and is surprised when Zack immediately speaks up again. “I’m proud of you.”  
  
Brian laughs. “Why?” he asks.  
  
“You were struggling, and you got help. By yourself,” Zack says simply. Brian looks over to find the man standing just outside of their bedroom, still in his scrubs. “That’s not easy to do,” Zack finishes.  
  
Brian shrugs, unsure how to answer, and bends down to get the pizza out of the oven.  
  
“You need to give yourself some credit,” Zack says. “You’re so intent on telling me why I shouldn’t care—you can’t see why I should.”  
  
“I love you,” is all Brian knows to say to that.  
  
“You, too,” Zack says gently, before disappearing into the bedroom.  
  
Brian chews on his lip, staring down at the pizza, before his lips curl involuntarily into a smile.


	7. Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~And the sound that comes out of Brian then is pitiful and pathetic, a sort of keening cry that he’ll be embarrassed about later, but at that moment all he can do is call out, “Zaaaack!”~

Nothing drastically changes after his talks with Zack.  
  
Brian isn’t sure what he’d been expecting, and maybe that is where the heart of the whole thing lies. He didn’t know what to expect, so he hadn’t been expecting anything. But Zack is his normal self—kind and considerate, quick to joke and laugh, easy to be around. It makes everything that much simpler.  
  
Zack has that Tuesday off as does Brian, and they both sleep in, cuddling lazily under the covers as they wake up. On any other similar morning they would’ve probably had sex—the sort of slow, unhurried sex between two lovers who have nowhere to be and no want to get out of bed. But that morning is different, and Brian is grateful that he doesn’t have to turn down any unwanted advances, that the cuddling stops at just that: cuddling.  
  
He suddenly wishes he’d just talked to Zack about all of this ages ago.  
  
Zack suggests they go out that afternoon, and while Brian still doesn’t feel like trying to be sociable, he agrees. He mainly feels like he needs to make up for his behavior at Matt’s, and wallowing around the apartment is not going to do or prove anything. Luckily Zack takes the initiative and decides they’ll go to the movies, allowing Brian to both get out of the apartment and sit quietly in a dark room all at once. He couldn’t have planned it better himself.  
  
They pick a generic action film to see, and sit in the back of the theater with their sodas and a huge bucket of popcorn to share. They watch the movie, laughing at the explosions and occasionally throwing popcorn kernels at each other, and for a while Brian forgets that anything has ever been wrong. Their relationship is as Brian has always known it to be—best friends and lovers both at once—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.  
  
“I know we said we were going to go to dinner,” Zack says later, once they are piling back into his hybrid after the movie. “But I’m stuffed, are you…?”  
  
“I think I ate more popcorn than you did,” Brian tells him with a grin. “Like, too much. I’m definitely not hungry.”  
  
“Alright, we’ll just go home then. Ichabod will be glad to be let out,” Zack says, starting up the engine. Brian puts his seatbelt on, settling into the passenger’s seat, but then Zack’s hand is on his knee, squeezing gently. When Brian looks over, he says, “Thanks for this. I know you were still feeling down and didn’t really wanna come, but I had fun. I always have fun with you.”  
  
It’s dark outside, nighttime, Zack’s face only illuminated by the streetlamps in the parking lot. His green eyes look oddly luminescent under the lights, and his expression seems so sweet and earnest. Brian doesn’t know what to say, and for the first time in a long time he’s feeling something akin to actual _happiness_. So he reaches a hand out and strokes Zack’s cheek, letting his thumb slide gently across that thick lower lip. Zack dips his head after a beat, and Brian finds the pad of his thumb between Zack’s lips, the man gently kissing his finger.  
  
And he’s aware that this is quickly becoming a tease. At that it’s a tease he won’t be able to follow through on, so he takes his thumb away—only to take it a step further and replace it with his index and middle finger, shoving them between Zack’s lips and into his mouth. Zack gives a pleased little moan and sucks on his two fingers, his tongue teasing along the fingertips like he does when he gives head. Brian wonders what he’s doing, what game he’s playing. How far can Brian go right now before he makes a fool of himself? How many times this week can Brian make a fool of himself? How many times this month can Brian make a fool of himself? Really, it seems limitless…  
  
Zack pulls the fingers from his mouth and reaches for Brian’s face instead, pulling him in for a kiss. It’s a wet kiss, a dirty kiss, and Brian can’t really blame him. Brian had given him a clear signal after all—letting him suck on anything is pretty much a clear signal, Brian has come to realize. Yet Brian himself is still confused, not sure what he wants or what his own endgame is. Why is he so fucked in the head?  
  
Then the hand Zack has on his knee slides upward, first to his thigh and then to settle over the crotch of his jeans, at which point Zack pulls away. _Small wonder_ , Brian thinks. He’s not even remotely hard.  
  
“You feeling anything?” Zack asks quietly, breathing a little heavy.  
  
“Uhm…” Brian says, trying to come up with a polite way of saying, _No, not a damn thing—unless you count feeling awkward_. “Sorry,” he says lamely, pulling away to settle back into his seat as far away from Zack as he can get. He leans against the passenger side door and stares resolutely out the window as Zack begins talking.  
  
“It’s okay. Don’t apologize,” Zack says, though Brian can hear the hint of disappointment in his voice. The man probably doesn’t mean anything by it, probably doesn’t even realize it’s there, but it still kills Brian a little bit.  
  
Brian leans his forehead against the window and continues to stare stubbornly outside, refusing to look back at Zack. He’s not going to acknowledge what just happened. Maybe they can just forget about it.  
  
Zack clears his throat awkwardly, and says, “Well, we gave it a try. That counts for something.”  
  
And Brian wants to bang his head against the window. “No, no,” he snaps, his bad attitude getting the better of him. “ _I_ tried. You’re fine. You don’t need to try…” And to confirm his suspicions, he glances over at Zack. Not at his face, no, he doesn’t want to see the expression in those green eyes, but he glances down at his lap. The man’s jeans are doing a good enough job of hiding it, but Brian can still tell he’s aroused. He huffs and turns back to staring out the window.  
  
He hears Zack take a breath like he wants to say something, but then he just lets it out with a sigh. Brian echoes his sigh, but says nothing else. Then Zack is throwing the car in reverse and backing out the parking spot, and they are on the road back to the apartment.  
  
“You know it doesn’t matter to me, right?” Zack says a few minutes later, stopped at a red light. Brian huffs back at him, unbelieving, and continues to stare out the window. “It doesn’t, okay? I—“ Zack starts.  
  
“Then why were you upset?” Brian interrupts. And he really wishes sometimes he could just calm down and not fan the flames.  
  
“What?” Zack asks, sounding confused. “I wasn’t—I said…”  
  
“You were,” Brian grates out, interrupting again. Then, “What if this is how it is for the rest of… forever? Would you stay? Or would you head for greener pastures? Where you could actually get some ass.”  
  
The light turns green, and Zack puts on the gas with a shaky breath. “That’s a ridiculous question,” he says.  
  
Brian laughs, says, “That’s what I thought.”  
  
“No, you stop this shit and listen to me,” Zack says, his tone suddenly harsh. He’s pushed it too far, Brian realizes, or at least he’s managed to get under Zack’s skin. Zack glances over at him quickly, his knuckles white where he’s gripping the steering wheel, and says, “You’re thirty years old, Brian. You are young, and you are healthy, and you _do_ have a sex drive, even if you don’t feel like it right now… This is not permanent.”  
  
“I feel like it is. Permanent,” Brian says, frustrated. “Hell, what if I want it to be permanent? Not ever having sex again sounds like a fucking relief, honestly.” Then, when Zack glances over at him uncertainly, “That, shit—that didn’t really come out right. It’s not you, it’s got nothing to do with you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Zack says dubiously, eyes sliding back to the road. Brian sighs, feeling guilty, but then Zack says, “Listen, the only reason you don’t want to right now is ‘cause you’re going through shit, and you feel like shit—babe, I been there, I know. But you’re seeing a therapist, yeah? You’re doing your best to get better, to _feel_ better. And once you do feel better, you’re going to want to. Because like I said you’re young and you’re healthy—and we have each other, we live together, we sleep in the same bed every night. Eventually, Brian, it’ll happen.”  
  
“Yeah, eventually,” Brian echoes, irritated, not quite believing.  
  
“And for the record,” Zack says, braking at another light. He looks over and gives Brian a stern stare as he continues. “If something ever _did_ happen—like if you got sick, you know, real fucking sick—had to go through heavy radiation or have your prostate removed or something…”  
  
“Don’t,” Brian says immediately, already not liking where this is going. Of course, Zack doesn’t listen.  
  
“…And you actually _couldn’t_ like we used to? No, hell no, I wouldn’t leave. I’m in love with _you_ , babe, not your prick.”  
  
Brian snorts on a laugh, looking away from Zack and back out the window. The light turns green, and the car rolls forward again.  
  
“So next time, don’t tell me how I feel or what I’m thinking when you have no fucking clue,” Zack tells him, his snappy tone still there. Brian sighs.  
  
“I’m sorry,” he says. Then, after a heavy pause, “We argue so much now, we never used to. I hate arguing and fighting.”  
  
“We _never_ used to argue?” Zack counters, tone more amused now than upset.  
  
“Well, we haven’t for a long time—until recently,” Brian says.  
  
“We’ve had a few argument recently…” Zack gives.  
  
“We’ve had fights,” Brian amends.  
  
Zack huffs out a sigh, making the turn into their apartments. He stays quiet as he parks in front of their simplex, and Brian doesn’t know what to say, so he remains silent as well. But then Zack shuts the engine off and turns to Brian, reaching out to thread his fingers gently through the other man’s hair. “Stop worrying, stop stressing,” Zack says eventually. “Everything’s okay. _We’re_ okay. And everything is going to continue to be okay.”  
  
Brian opens his mouth to argue, but Zack leans forward and kisses him before he can come up with the words. It’s an open-mouthed kiss, Zack’s thick lips gently closing over Brian’s thin lower lip, but it’s otherwise innocent, no tongue and no wandering hands. And he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, a quiet please little moan bubbling up out of his chest despite himself. He feels Zack smile against his mouth before the man pulls back.  
  
“See, told you,” Zack says, before opening the car door and letting himself out.  
  
“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Brian mumbles, letting himself out of the car as well. He follows Zack inside the house, heart fluttering a bit, still unsure what to do with himself.  
  
But he figures even so, at least he has Zack…  
  
~*~  
  
Thursday afternoon finds him at the coffee shop, busy behind the espresso machine. With the fall semester at that college starting soon business has picked up. It keeps Brian occupied and his mind off of his nerves, away from the lingering memories of what had happened behind that very counter.  
  
His coworker that evening is a sweet, young blonde by the name of Ellie. She’s short and thin, nineteen or twenty years old, small breasts and a delicate figure, and if Brian were in a different place in his life he’d probably find her attractive. Hell, he _has_ found her attractive, checked out her ass a few times when she leaned over to pick something up off the floor. But it was idle attention, because he goes home to Zack, is satisfied there, and has no interest in leaving. Especially now.  
  
He hardly takes notice of _anyone_ else anymore, though, at least not in that sense.  
  
She’ll be there with him for the rest of the night—the boss’s rule of ‘no one closes alone’ still in place, at least for now. Brian hasn’t heard anything from Matt about anyone being apprehended for the crime, and he half-hopes things will go back to normal once there has been an arrest. The other half of him is glad to not be left alone at night, subconsciously afraid that every one of his past clients will make a return. Every one of them—from the other violent ones who hit and choked and hurt him, to the older married men who cooed at him and used cheesy lines from pornos.  
  
But for the most part he’s too busy to worry about it. At least until the evening begins to creep in on them, and the customers begin to dwindle. They’re still running fairly smoothly into the evening, but by seven o’clock they’re only getting a few stragglers here and there. Brian busies himself by beginning to clean up, wiping down the counters and coffee machines. He notices the cop car roll by outside the windows, patrolling as is the new norm for the evenings. Brian doesn’t know why they bother. Realistically that asshole isn’t going to make another appearance after what happened—that would be more stupid than the definition.  
  
But then Brian is really underestimating the man’s level of absurdity. Because as he continues to wipe down the counter, listening to Ellie hum idly to herself, he hears the door chime—customer coming in. And he glances up only to see the son of a bitch himself; tall, fit, and dressed all in black just last like time. He shoots Brian a wicked grin, and Brian feels himself break out in a cold sweat.  
  
“Good evening, what can I get you?” Ellie asks as the man steps up to the register. Brian grabs hold of the counter in front of him, his heart pounding in his chest.  
  
“Will he be making it for me?” the man asks, gesturing at Brian.  
  
“Uhm…” Ellie answers, looking confused. “He’s working the espresso machine right now, yes.”  
  
And Brian’s heart is beating too fast, his chest aching, his breathing becoming erratic. He holds onto the counter so hard his hands hurt, trying his best to hold himself up, but his knees feel weak. His legs give out from under him after a couple of long seconds, but not before he sees the police officer burst through the door.  
  
“California state police! You’re under arrest! Get on the floor, on your knees, hands above your head!”  
  
The next few minutes are a daze. He scoots on the floor until his back hits the opposite counters and drawers, huddling in on himself, pressing his face in his hands. He’s terrified. And he’s sweating. And he can’t breathe. He vaguely hears footsteps pounding and the door chiming again, hears other customers in the shop yelling, but they don’t actually register. And he can’t fucking _breathe_ …  
  
“Hey, Brian, Brian…” someone is saying, and gentle hands are pulling his own hands away from his face. He looks up, stunned, and finds Ellie squatting down next to him. She squeezes his hands softly once she has his attention, and has his hands away from his face, and says, “It’s okay, just breathe. In, and out. In, and out.”  
  
“I can’t,” he tells her, but breathes all the same like she’s told him. In, and out. In, and out. It’s easier now that he’s thinking about it—and now that his hands are away from his mouth and nose.  
  
“Yes, you can. You already are,” Ellie tells him. Then, “They got that guy. He tried to run, but the cop got him before he could get out the door.”  
  
And this is more of a relief than he expected. He takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and resting his head back against the counters behind him, and exhales. “My chest hurts. Bad,” he says, unsure why he says it once it comes out of his mouth. He doesn’t mean to complain.  
  
“I think you had a panic attack. My older sister used to have them,” Ellie tells him quietly, still squatting down next to him. Then, “Was that the guy? You know… _the guy?_ ”  
  
“The guy who shoved his junk down my throat?” Brian snaps, too upset to think about what he’s saying. He jerks his hands away from her, wrapping them around his knees instead. He finds himself rocking back and forth, back and forth. “Yes.”  
  
“I—I’m sorry,” she answers, subdued. She reaches out, touching his shoulder, but it only makes him flinch. There’s a few moments of tense and awkward silence before she asks, “Do you want me to get you anything? Or—or get anyone? The police are all…”  
  
And she’s referring to getting a police officer, but he doesn’t even think about that. “Zack,” he says. “Call Zack. Please.”  
  
“Uh… Zack?” Ellie asks. “Is he outside? Or… do you have a number?”  
  
“My phone…” Brian says, frantically digging in his pocket. He flings his cell out at her, and repeats, “Zack. Call Zack.”  
  
“Okay. Call Zack,” she echoes, taking the phone from him and beginning to scroll through the contacts. “Here, I see him. Zack.”  
  
Brian watches as she presses the screen on the phone then puts the phone up to her ear, moving to sit on the floor next to Brian. Brian can hear the phone ringing through the quiet—he always keeps the volume turned up a little too loud—then hears Zack answer, muted through the phone, “Hey there, babe. You on your way home already? I just walked through the door…”  
  
“Uhm, no, it’s Ellie,” she says, looking a little thrown by Zack’s answer. “I’m Brian’s coworker. He wants you—uh, I mean, we’ve had a bit of a situation, and he asked me to call you.”  
  
And Brian can hear Zack even better now, his voice amplified out of alarm. “What?! What happened? Is Brian okay?”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, he’s okay. I mean, for the most part. He’s kinda shaken up still, but…” Ellie says.  
  
Brian thinks it says something that Zack doesn’t even question it further. “Okay,” he says. “You’re both still at work? Or…”  
  
“Yes,” Ellie answers simply.  
  
“I’m on my way,” Zack says. Then, “Tell him I’m on my way.”  
  
“Okay. Okay, I will,” Ellie says, hanging up. Then needlessly repeats, “He’s on his way.”  
  
Brian smiles weakly, feeling a little better now, and says, “Thank you.” He accepts his cell phone when she hands it back to him, fidgeting with it in his sweaty hands.  
  
Zack must drive like a madman—like twenty miles over the speed limit and running every red light—because it seems like Ellie had just hung up with the man when Brian hears the door chime. His initial reaction is panic, his chest seizing up again and his muscles going tight, and all he can think of is _the man_ coming back in. Coming back after him to finish what he’d started. But then he hears Zack’s voice, “Brian? Brian?! Babe, are you in here?!”  
  
And the sound that comes out of Brian then is pitiful and pathetic, a sort of keening cry that he’ll be embarrassed about later, but at that moment all he can do is call out, “Zaaaack!”  
  
He can see Ellie look over at him out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t even care at that moment. All he cares about is Zack, and his anxiety begins to subside even more when he sees Zack’s face peering at him over the counter, as he watches Zack rush to let himself behind the counter, as he watches Zack rush to his side. The man still has his scrubs on from work—he must have been serious about ‘just walking through the door’—and the fact that the man had literally turned around and came here for him, not even bothering to change, makes Brian’s heart ache.  
  
“What happened? The cops are out front, and they told me no one was in here anymore. But I couldn’t find you anywhere, so I just let myself in,” Zack says as he kneels down on the floor next to Brian. Brian buries his face into Zack’s chest, breathing the man in. He smells like the hospital grade sanitizer he uses at the clinic, like clean sweat, and like home. So Brian closes his eyes, and presses even closer.  
  
“He had a panic attack, I think,” Ellie answers, and Brian can feel her eyes on him, feel where she’s watching Zack hold him, watching Zack soothingly rub his back. He doesn’t even care, though. He’s just glad to have his lover, his partner there. Ellie continues, “The man who… that Charlie told us about—he came in here. The police got him, arrested him. But Brian…”  
  
“…Was a pansy and fell down,” Brian finishes for her, self-deprecating, muffled into the material of Zack’s scrub top. Zack shushes him, and he feels the man runs his hand up his spine, cradling the back of his neck.  
  
“It’s alright,” Zack tells him, then shifts, looking over Brian’s head at Ellie. “Who’s Charlie?”  
  
“Boss,” Brian answers. Ellie echoes him. Zack nods, rubbing gentle circles along the back of Brian’s neck, up into his hair.  
  
It’s a few long moments of silence before Brian feels calm and secure enough to pull away, and he runs his hands over his face when he does, trying to wipe away the feel of drying sweat. The attempt fails, only leaves him feeling sweatier. He glances over at Zack to give the man a feeble grin, trying to be encouraging. Zack smiles reassuringly at him, moving his hand to Brian’s shoulder, so Brian takes a deep breath, glancing over at Ellie instead.  
  
The girl is staring at them with a sideways grin, and only smiles wider when he looks over at her, like she’s in on some sort of secret. “What?” Brian asks her defensively.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” she says, but Brian is sure it’s _something_.  
  
“I know, I’m an idiot,” he tells her, groaning. “Fucking fell down…”  
  
“No, no! That’s not… I’m just glad you’re okay,” Ellie says, as Zack shushes him again. But then, when Brian continues to give her a hard stare, she relents, “No, look, you can’t tell her I told you this, okay? It was a private discussion. But you know Mary? Works on weekends and on Fridays?” She plows on when Brian nods. “She’s had the hugest crush on you for months. And I’ve kept trying to tell her that I just wasn’t sure you were interested—I mean, like, not just in her particularly but not interested in women in general. And she’s just all, ‘nah, nah, nah…’ Even though you’re completely oblivious to all of her advances.”  
  
Zack starts chuckling. Brian twists his head around to glare at him, but the man is busy folding himself up to sit on the floor next to Brian and doesn’t notice. So he turns his attention back to Ellie.  
  
“And well, I wasn’t too far off the mark,” she says, gesturing at the two of them. “Mary’s going to be heartbroken—let her down easy, okay? _And don’t tell her I said anything._ ”  
  
“Yes, Brian,” Zack puts in. “Try not to leave a string of broken hearts through the workplace—it’s bad for business.”  
  
And Brian can’t help but chuckle at that, even though his chest is still a bit tight. It feels good to smile at something, to laugh a little bit. “I’m not gay, I’m bi,” he says, hiccupping through a laugh. Both Zack and Ellie giggle at him, so he presses on, “And you can’t tell. He’s the flaming one—everyone knows Zack is gay. I’m an enigma.”  
  
Zack busts out laughing at that, grabbing Brian’s knee and squeezing it affectionately. Ellie just gives him a crooked grin, and says, “Ah, yes. The immaculately groomed, perfumed enigma—whose nails are painted silver right now.”  
  
He looks down at his hands, his nails, and well… “I’m not perfumed!” he gripes, but he’s laughing all the same.  
  
“Babe, you smell better than most women,” Zack points out. Ellie giggles.  
  
“Well, you bought the cologne for me!” Brian protests.  
  
“Yeah, because I liked it, but remember… I’m _flaming_ ,” Zack says with a shit-eating grin. Brian laughs. “I’m rubbing off on you.”  
  
“Oh, no. I’ve caught _the gay_ ,” Brian says humorously, smiling at the sound of the laughter around him. He feels wrung out, completely drained, but he’s calm now, secure. Whatever had stricken him before has past, which he is glad of. He closes his eyes and leans his head back against the counter. He feels Zack squeeze his knee again, rocking it side to side gently.  
  
“You okay?” Zack asks him quietly, and Brian nods.  
  
“Yeah. I am now,” he answers.  
  
“You said they told you no one was in here?” Ellie asks suddenly, pushing herself up from the floor. “I should probably go let them know we’re still in here.”  
  
“Yeah,” Zack agrees.  
  
“I can get up and go out there,” Brian protests, going to grab hold of the counter behind him and pull himself up, but Zack stops him.  
  
“No, just sit for a little longer,” Zack tells him, expression a little too concerned for Brian’s liking. But he doesn’t object further, just stays seated on the hard tile floor. His ass is going to hurt when he does stand up.  
  
“I’ll be right back,” Ellie says, disappearing around the counter and out of sight. The door chimes as she exits, causing Brian to tense involuntarily, but Zack shushes him, squeezing his knee gently.  
  
“I have got to get a handle on myself,” he says a bit hysterically. He scrubs his hands over his face again, trying to erase what had just happened from his mind. It doesn’t work.  
  
“Babe, it’s _okay_ ,” Zack says softly, confined to the space between them. “Why do you think a lot of rape victims don’t want to face their attackers or testify at trial? It’s—“  
  
“I wasn’t raped,” he insists, interrupting.  
  
“Oh my fucking God, I’m not having this argument with you right now,” Zack says, leaning over to rest his shoulder against Brian’s. Then, “According to the law, you were.”  
  
Brian sighs, frustrated, and runs a hand through his hair.  
  
The door chimes again, and Brian feels his muscles go tight instinctively. He curses himself, especially when he hears Ellie says, “They’re behind the register.”  
  
“Oh, okay.” Matt’s voice. Fucking hell… Brian glances up as he sees the big man peer over the counter at them, frowning. Then, “Why are you both on the floor?”  
  
“I fell down,” Brian tells him tiredly.  
  
Zack rolls his eyes as Ellie steps up next to Matt. “He had a panic attack,” Zack says, and it’s Brian’s turn to roll his eyes. “At least that’s the information I got.”  
  
“Yeah,” Ellie puts in. “The guy came right up to the counter to order, all nonchalant, creepy at shit. I didn’t know who he was—but obviously Brian did.”  
  
“Yeah…” Brian says, trailing off. He’s exhausted now, and craving a cigarette. He presses his fingers together to mimic holding one, trying to stave off that feeling.  
  
“I’m sorry they just left you in here—I just pulled in,” Matt says. “I kept asking the other officers where you were, dude. They kept telling me they’d secured the building, no one inside. You’re nowhere to be found, but your car is sitting right there in the parking lot. Plus Zack’s car is here. I’m standing there going—the fuck?”  
  
Brian chuckles a bit. “Good help’s hard to find?”  
  
“Something like that,” Matt says. Then, “You guys can go whenever you want. They’re taking the guy down to the station now. He keeps yammering about getting a better deal if he confesses—he knows we have him dead to rights. But yeah, it’s over, man. Go home, get some rest.”  
  
“I’ll finish up here,” Ellie offers, smiling positively. “He’s right. You should go home.”  
  
“I don’t want to leave you to do everything by yourself,” Brian protests, but Ellie shakes her head.  
  
“I insist,” she says. Brian goes to argue again, but she cuts him off. “You can close for me some other time to make it up to me, okay? That make you feel better?”  
  
“Yeah, okay, I guess,” Brian relents. He goes to push himself up from the floor, struggling a bit, his legs feeling numb. But then Zack is pushing himself up from the floor too, turning to assist him once he’s standing even though Brian is loath to accept the help. “I’m fine,” he tells Zack, a little more curt than he’d intended. “I’m not an invalid.”  
  
“I know,” Zack says, quiet, and backs away from him a step.  
  
They leave the shop with a goodbye to Matt and a goodbye to Ellie, Brian stumbling out on wobbly legs, and Brian has never been so happy to see the end to a day.  
  
~*~  
  
He breaks his own rule of ‘no smoking in the car’ and smokes a cigarette on the way home, window cracked so hopefully the smoke smell won’t seep into the fabric seats. Zack’s probably have a fit in front of him—the man had given him a lecture before they’d left the shop about driving slow, paying attention to the road, just following Zack safely home. After he’d asked multiple times whether Brian was actually good to drive, of course.  
  
Zack gives him ‘the look’ once they get to their apartment, but otherwise doesn’t comment on his smoking or driving. They let themselves inside, Zack grabbing Ichabod up to take him outside while Brian heads for the bathroom. He’s exhausted, and he just wants to sleep, but there’s no way he can lie down without a shower.  
  
He flips the overhead light on the bathroom and stands in front of the mirror, leaning over the sink. He stares at his reflection—he looks very pale, dark bags under his eyes, his hair mussed up with dried sweat. And he is so _tired_ … of everything. Of being tired, of being sad, of being scared…  
  
He finds himself looking at the medicine cabinet on the wall, not really aware of his thought process until he’s already there. He knows that Zack has prescription medicine in there, medicine that he shouldn’t have, hard meds. Xanax and Oxy, Brian knows off the top of his head. It would be so easy to just down the bottles and be done with this shit—not be tired or sad or scared anymore.  
  
But he only thinks about it for that one second before turning away from the medicine cabinet, away from the mirror, and heading for the shower instead. He can’t do that to Zack. Not that Zack wouldn’t maybe be better off without him, but the thoughts of Zack coming back inside to find him on the bathroom floor… No, he can’t do that to him.  
  
He turns the shower on, adjusting the water temperature, and strips down. He’s in the shower, busy scrubbing shampoo into his hair, when Zack comes back inside. The man gives him a gentle smile through the glass shower pane before asking, “Can I join?” Then, at Brian’s rather stricken look, “No funny business, I promise. I just need a shower too.”  
  
Brian bites his lip, still unsure about being so close to the man while naked, but relents, “Okay.”  
  
Zack’s already getting undressed, though, pulling his scrub top over his head and pushing his pants down. He’s sliding up behind Brian in the shower soon enough, hands reaching up to run over his shoulders. Brian flinches despite himself, and he feels Zack pull away. “Am I not allowed to even touch you?” Zack asks, sounding disappointed.  
  
“I thought you said no, you know… No funny business,” Brian tells him, refusing to turn around and look at him.  
  
“I did—and I meant that,” Zack answers. Brian feels his tentative touch against his shoulder again, fingertips gentle. It makes him shiver. Zack continues, says, “I’m not going to ask you, just so you know. When you’re ready, you come to me. I’ll be here.”  
  
“Yeah, no pressure,” Brian says sardonically. Zack squeezes his shoulder once before letting him go, so Brian turns to put his head under the shower spray and rinse the shampoo from his hair. His gaze lands on Zack, then, then man’s smile kind.  
  
“Have you ever had a panic attack before?” Zack asks after a beat, trading places with Brian under the showerhead. Brian groans, subconsciously knowing they would have this conversation but still not wanting to talk.  
  
“No,” Brian says, grabbing past Zack for the soap. “Never…”  
  
“You should talk to your therapist about getting a script for some meds,” Zack comments. “Just for now.”  
  
“Don’t you already have some Xanax in there?” Brian snaps before he can help himself, then watches as Zack opens him mouth, looking surprised, trying to formulate an answer. Brian cuts him off before he can come up with something. “No—I have an addictive personality.”  
  
“Do you?” Zack asks. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”  
  
“And you’re giving me too much credit,” Brian tells him with a sigh.  
  
“Well, regardless, an anti-depressant might do you a world of good,” Zack says. “Or a mild anti-anxiety med…”  
  
“I don’t want to get all drugged up just to cope with this,” Brian tells him. “Like you said, I’ll be okay eventually.”  
  
Zack gives him a sad little smile and steps up from under the shower stream to Brian’s front. He wraps his arms around him, presses his face into the curve of Brian’s neck, and murmurs, “I just want you to be happy, babe.”  
  
And Brian can’t help but hold him back, wrapping his arms back around the other man. He’s solid, and warm, and secure, and Brian loves him _so much_. He suddenly can’t believe he’d been thinking about leaving him, leaving everything, just moments prior. “I’m trying to be happy,” Brian tell him quietly. Then, “Thank you for being here for me.”  
  
“Always, babe,” Zack says. “Always.”


	8. Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~A man and a woman stare passionately at each other against the pale blue backdrop, the bolded title at the top reading ‘Tantric Sex—A Therapeutic Approach’~

“And then I had a panic attack. I guess,” Brian finishes his story with, sitting in the back of Panera with Lacey. They’re having a late lunch/early dinner, meeting on the one evening this week Brian has time for a session. Fall classes have started up again at the community college, and he’s busy. Stressed. He thought about just calling this meeting with Lacey off, but then _actually_ thought about it. It wasn’t a good idea, he needed to talk to her after what had happened, after everything. So he drags himself out after classes and munches on a sandwich in between sentences.  
  
“You guess?” Lacey counters. “What exactly happened?”  
  
Brian laughs, he can’t help it. The whole thing is comical now looking back on it—everything that happened is comical. From the panic attack, to the guy ever showing up to attack him in the first place. He finally answers, “I fell down, kinda zoned out for a while, I dunno. My coworker who was there with me said that was what it was. A panic attack, that is. Said her sister had them. Anyway, I had her call Zack, and he came and got me.”  
  
“You reached out to Zack?” Lacey asks, looking almost surprised. “That’s good. That’s very good.”  
  
“Yeah, well,” Brian says, then chuckles again. “I was scared. I guess.”  
  
“And what did Zack say?” Lacey asks.  
  
“He…” Brian starts, thinking back on that night. _He loves me. He wants me to be happy. He’s not going to pressure me for sex._ But what he says is, “He thinks I should go on meds.”  
  
“Medication?” Lacey asks, sounding concerned. “An anti-anxiety medication, or…?”  
  
Brian cuts her off, “I told him I had an addictive personality, and he didn’t really believe me. I think he’s blind sometimes—or well, just conveniently forgets the fact that I can down a whole bottle of alcohol when I’m pissed off. I’m already smoking again. I don’t want to end up on something worse…”  
  
“He was probably more thinking an anti-depressant,” Lacey muses, biting her lip as she thinks. “The only thing that concerns me with prescribing you something like that is—most all drugs in that class have sexual side-effects. Decreased libido, that sort of thing. And I don’t want to do anything to exacerbate the problems you’re already having—especially since we know that _is_ a source of stress for you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says, huffing on a laugh. “Please don’t do that. Things don’t need to be worse.”  
  
Lacey nods. Then, “Speaking of which, how have things been? With everything else going on, we haven’t spoken much about you and Zack?”  
  
And Brian knows what she’s talking about, but he feigns ignorance. “What about me and Zack? We’re going okay.”  
  
Lacey frowns at him, squinting. She can clearly through his bullshit. “Lets me be more specific,” she says. “Have you been physically intimate with him recently?”  
  
Brian snorts. “ _Physically intimate_? Really? We’re not in the office anymore, call it what it is. Did we screw, did we fuck, did we get it on…?”  
  
Lacey continues to squint at him, though her lips quirk up into a grin. “Okay, fine,” she relents. “Have you guys ‘done the deed’ recently? There, I did what you wanted—now answer my question.”  
  
He laughs at her, at her only slight give. “Okay, whatever,” he says. “No, we haven’t. Not in, I don’t even know. I’ve lost track of time. A month, maybe?”  
  
“And how do you feel about that?” Lacey counters. Brian rolls his eyes.  
  
“I hate it when you ask me that.”  
  
“I know,” she says. Then, after a few beats of quiet, “Well, how do you feel?”  
  
“I—I’m terrified to. It’s been so long, and I just—I just don’t want to. But…” He trails off, not knowing really how to say what he wants to say.  
  
“But what?” Lacey pushes, eyebrows raised.  
  
Brian groans. “I don’t want to—but at the same time, I kinda do. It’s just… I dunno, I sound like a lunatic.”  
  
“No, you don’t,” Lacey assures him. “If you kinda do, and kinda don’t—then let’s ask ‘why’ you kinda do and ‘why’ you kinda don’t.”  
  
“Because it’s been so long, and I dunno…” Brian trails off. And he doesn’t know how to explain everything he does feel, so he just tells her, “We went to the movies together last week. We had the best time, we hadn’t been out in a while, just the two of us. I guess it was a ‘date’, I dunno. Anyway, I got back in the car with him afterward, and I was just _happy_. And I don’t really know why I did it, but I grabbed him and we started kissing, making out, whatever. But then it didn’t go any further—I _couldn’t_ go any further, you know, if you get what I’m saying. And he was disappointed, I could tell, even if he said he wasn’t. And I…” He trails off, floundering for the right words.  
  
“And you…?” Lacey prompts.  
  
“Don’t want to be a disappointment,” Brian says. “I’m fucking _terrified_ of being a disappointment to him—hell, I already am.”  
  
“Remember what we said? About not projecting your own feeling onto him?” Lacey says.  
  
“I know, I know,” Brian says, then chuckles. “Easier said than done. I don’t want him to look at me and think—‘this is what I’m stuck with, this nasty…’”  
  
“What did we just say?” Lacey interrupts, so Brian shuts his mouth, then stuff it full of sandwich instead. Lacey gives him a gentle smile, then says, “Well, that’s why you ‘kinda don’t’. Why do you ‘kinda do’?”  
  
Brian swallows his mouthful of food, then answers, “I dunno—why does anyone wanna have sex?”  
  
Lacey raises her eyebrows, clearly expecting him to give her a better answer—or maybe answer his own question. Brian groans.  
  
 _Because I find him sexy. He used to turn me on at the drop of a hat—a knowing glance, a coy smirk, a teasing bite to his lower lip, that was all it took. I want to go back to how it was, when everything was easy. I…_ “I love him,” he answers, the words so much easier now than they were years ago, even with everything he’s going through. _And having sex with him, letting him fuck me, feeling him inside of me—even just having his mouth on me, or his hands on me, my mouth on him and my hands on him. So close to him, feeling him sweating, hearing him gasping in pleasure, murmuring my name…_  
  
“You’re blushing,” Lacey comments, leaning an elbow on the table. Brian bites his lip. “What’re you thinking?”  
  
“It’s not…” Brian tries, then chuckles. Says, “I told you—I just kinda want to.”  
  
Lacey shoots him a sly grin, then reaches for her purse. “Here, I brought something,” she says. “I wasn’t sure I was going to give it to you today, but maybe I should. You can always just tuck it away somewhere if you’re not ready for it—pull it back out when you are.”  
  
He takes the small pamphlet she offers him, looking down at the front cover. A man and a woman stare passionately at each other against the pale blue backdrop, the bolded title at the top reading _‘Tantric Sex—A Therapeutic Approach’._ Brian blinks down at it for a moment, before breaking out into manic laughter. “No fucking way,” he says finally. “You’re shitting me, right?”  
  
She answers him with a stern glare, then says, “You may be surprised how helpful that can be when it comes to your anxiety. I recommend it a lot for people who are having problems—especially those who have experienced sexual trauma.”  
  
And Brian’s laughter trails off into a sigh. “Well I want advice, so I guess I should listen,” he says eventually. He opens up the pamphlet, then immediately closes it again. While the front cover isn’t explicit, the inside is a different story. It’s not appropriate reading for sitting in public, where anyone could glance over his shoulder and see the detailed diagrams of varied sexual positions.  
  
“You can read over it whenever you feel like it,” Lacey tells him. “And I apologize, but the only material our practice has on the subject is all for heterosexual couples. I’m really pushing to change that—but in the meantime, everything in there should be doable for you both. The positions are all easy and comfortable, which is pretty much the point…”  
  
“Okay, okay, okay,” he says, trying to shut her up. It was never embarrassing talking about sex before, but now? Now it leaves him tied in knots, blushing and cringing. He’s ready to leave.  
  
But she doesn’t stop talking. “The main goal is to just be close to each other—to be calm, and comfortable, and loving. This isn’t about having crazy wild sex and having an awesome orgasm, okay?”  
  
“Oh my fucking God, okay…” Brian grates out, rubbing his hands over his face in embarrassment.  
  
“I know I’m making you feel uncomfortable, but I’m not quite done yet. Almost done,” she says. Then, “If you decide to try, and you get there and don’t become physically aroused? Don’t give it up as a loss. Like I said, this is not about screwing until you orgasm—this is about having an emotional connection with your partner.”  
  
And he wants to say, _What is sex if it’s not screwing until you orgasm?_ But what he gets hung up on instead is, “Oh shit, you just called it ‘screwing’.”  
  
She bites her lip thoughtfully, then says, “Huh, I guess I did. My bad.”  
  
And he laughs, burying he face in his hands, his nervousness spilling out of him. He doesn’t know how this is going to work—or if he even wants to try it—but he figures it’s something to think about at least.  
  
Zack isn’t there yet when he gets home, so he lays the pamphlet on the kitchen counter and goes to let Ichabod out. Zack pulls in while he’s out with the little dog, and he follows the man in, only half listening as his lover rambles on about something or another, nothing important. Brian has a lot on his mind.  
  
“You hungry?” Zack asks once they’re inside, setting his keys down, then bending over to pet Ichy once Brian lets him off the lease.  
  
Brian bites his lip, because no, he isn’t. He’d just eaten with Lacey, and how is he going to explain that one away? “Uhm, no, I had a late lunch,” he says, hoping the lie sounds genuine.  
  
“Oh, okay,” Zack says, breezing on into the kitchen and to the fridge. He opens the fridge door, looking around inside, and comments, “I don’t think we have anything to eat. I mean, anything at all. Someone needs to go to the store this weekend. I’ll just order a pizza.”  
  
“Okay,” Brian says, sitting down on the couch, then picking up Ichabod to sit him down next to him. He’s tired—tired from a full day of classes, then a full evening of stressing.  
  
“You want anything? I know you said you weren’t hungry, but anything to snack on?” Zack asks.  
  
“Yeah, get me some breadsticks,” Brian tells him. He can snack on them later tonight while he does homework, and they can have them tomorrow for dinner with whatever leftover pizza Zack doesn’t eat. Then Brian can go get groceries on Saturday.  
  
“Sounds good,” Zack says, and Brian closes his eyes just for a moment. He hears Zack grab the portable phone up off the charger, the _beep-beeping_ of him dialing, then silence for a few seconds. Until Zack makes an interested humming noise, and there is the sound paper rustling.  
  
And _fuck_ , Brian had left that damn sex pamphlet on the kitchen counter.  
  
He opens his eyes and cranes his neck to look behind him, finds Zack holding the phone to his ear with one hand and the pamphlet up to read with the other. He’s only looking at the front, at the title and the passionate, happy couple there as advertisement, but then turns the pamphlet over after a moment to glance at the back. Apparently there’s nothing remarkable to see there—Brian himself has not looked at the back yet—because Zack flips it back over soon enough, slides his thumb between the cover and first page, and opens it.  
  
Brian watches Zack blink a few times, squint, then blush scarlet, the red flush of his face always the more noticeable with his pale porcelain skin. He quickly stammers out a reply into the phone, shutting the pamphlet with urgency, as though whomever he’s talking with on the phone can see what he’s looking at. Brian rolls his eyes, turning back around to stare at the television even though it’s turned off, only a blank screen. He listens as Zack orders their food and hang up the phone, then listens to the other man’s footfalls as he approaches him from the back of the couch.  
  
“What’s this?” Zack asks, leaning over the back of the couch next to Brian, his shoulder next to Brian’s head, the pamphlet held out in front of him so Brian can easily see it.  
  
Brian sighs, says with his characteristic bad attitude, “You can read, right?”  
  
Zack swallows audibly, then tries again, “Where did you get this?”  
  
“My therapist gave it to me,” Brian relents after a moment of indecision. “She said it might, uh… help.”  
  
“Oh,” Zack says, and Brian watches as he opens the pamphlet up, see the pictures inside for the first time. _Really_ sees them for the first time, not just the quick glance inside Panera. There are two positions there, one on the left side and one on the right side with writing above and below the pictures. Brian doesn’t bother reading the writing, assuming they are directions of some sort. He doesn’t care to read the directions—doesn’t want to, doesn’t need to. He fucking know how to have sex.  
  
He’s a bit surprised at how explicit the pictures are. For a psychiatrist’s brochure, they are verging on pornography. They are actual photos of the man and woman on the front of the pamphlet having sex—or at least in the sexual positions, Brian supposes. Only the curve of their bodies are visible where they would be joined together, the curve of her ass pressed up against his groin, so it might be only as explicit as your average HBO show. Which is still pretty racy, Brian thinks. He wonders what Zack is thinking—gay, and not into chicks at all. At least Brian can appreciate her tits.  
  
“You’ve spoken to her about your problems, then. Between us,” Zack says. Then continues when Brian rolls his eyes, because _everyone is so touchy when it comes to talking about the fucking subject_! “About how we haven’t been having sex.”  
  
“Yeah, I have,” Brian says. Then, after a moment’s pause when Zack doesn’t say anything, only turns the page in the pamphlet—two more positions, with more writing. “Why? Does that bother you?”  
  
“No! God, no, not at all,” Zack hurries to reassure him. Brian can tell he’s interested in the pamphlet, figures it’s good that he’s not turned off by the fact that it’s all heterosexual. Another bit of silence, assumedly while Zack is reading through the booklet, before he asks, “What have you talked about?”  
  
“Uhh…” Brian asks, panicking a bit, not sure he wants to say.  
  
But then Zack is interrupting, “I’m sorry, nevermind. I shouldn’t have asked. What you say in therapy is your own business…”  
  
And it’s him saying that, assuring him that he doesn’t _have_ to tell him anything, that makes Brian open his mouth. “I’ve told her how I’m—I’m kinda afraid to, kinda…”  
  
“Afraid?” Zack asks, suddenly sounding fearful himself. “Brian, if I have hurt you, or done something to upset you, I swear…”  
  
“No, no, for fuck’s sake,” Brian says, reaching over to lay a hand on the man’s shoulder. “It’s just—I don’t want to be a disappointment, don’t want to…”  
  
“Babe, you could _never_ be a disappointment to me,” Zack says with feeling, then chuckles a little as he continues. “And in the couple of years we’ve been together, you’ve certainly _never_ been a disappointment in this respect,” he says, gesturing to the pamphlet.  
  
“Yeah, because not getting a boner is _never_ a disappointment,” Brian grates out. Zack opens his mouth to say something in response, but Brian plows on before he can get anywhere. “You pay for my things—you make sure I have a place to stay, and that there’s food on the table, and that I’m taken care of. And I should be able to repay you for that with what I have to give…”  
  
And Brian finds Zack’s free hand under his chin with a sudden strength, twisting his head around until he’s forced to meet Zack’s green eyes. He looks somewhere between sad and angry, and it’s disconcerting, so Brian tries to pull away. But the grip Zack has on him is secure, so Brian stays where he is, pliant and a little unnerved. Zack speaks up, voice strict, “It is Not. Your. Job to have sex. Not with me. Not with anyone. Do. You. Understand?”  
  
Brian tries to nod in reply, but his face is still held in Zack’s firm grip. He eventually speaks up, subdued, “Yes.”  
  
“I don’t expect sex from you as a ‘duty’, or your ‘job’, or ‘payment’—or whatever you just called it. When you are ready, we’ll have sex because You. Want. To. And it’ll be so good you’ll be screaming my name and begging me for more and so fucked out afterwards you can’t move. Do. You. Understand?”  
  
He feels his cock twitch in his pants at that one, though that’s unfortunately as far as it goes. He always loves it when Zack talks dirty to him, and especially loves it when Zack is demanding and in charge. However that’s not an often occurrence, a gentle and loving Zack much more common in the bedroom. Not that Brian ever complains about that one, either.  
  
Zack lets his face go after a second, apparently satisfied that he’s gotten his point across. Brian swallows thickly as Zack goes back to the pamphlet, turning the page to the last two positions and writing as though nothing has just happened. Brian blinks down at the pictures, a little stunned, thrown for a loop.  
  
Well, at least Zack had been very clear about how he felt…  
  
“We’ve fucked in that position before,” Zack says, pointing down at one of the photographs. Brian squints down at the booklet, trying to focus, and realizes that they indeed have screwed like that. Multiple times, in fact. And right where he’s sitting, at that. He swallows again, realizing that he’s turned on, but his body isn’t quite acting accordingly. He wonders idly if he would just let Zack sit down next to him, let him kiss him and touch him, if it _would_ start acting accordingly.  
  
The picture is of the woman sitting in the man’s lap, facing away from the man, the man sitting up and holding her back to his chest. And yeah, when they have sex on the couch, it’s usually just like that. Zack sitting on the couch, either naked or with his pants pulled down just enough, his hands wandering across Brian’s chest and his lips busy at Brian’s neck and shoulders—Brian sitting in his lap, a leg tucked on either side of Zack’s thighs, rocking his hips slowly at first then resorting to outright undulating and bouncing when he needs more. It’s a good position, Brian knows. A fucking amazing position. Brian isn’t surprised it’s in that booklet.  
  
“Yeah, we have,” Brian answers, his voice coming out a bit rough, throaty. Zack must hear it too because he glances away from the paper, over to Brian instead. Brian swallows, throwing caution to the wind, still thrown after Zack’s little display of control, and says, “And that’s why I kinda want to. Still. Even though, you know… But I do, I want to. I can remember being here with you, right here, on your lap. Having sex, you inside of me—and God, you feel so good, you always feel good, thick and hard and you fill me perfect…”  
  
“Stop,” Zack says, breathy. He sounds wrecked. “Stop—you’re making me hard…”  
  
Brian laughs, he can’t help it. Zack pulls away from the couch, the pamphlet going with him. Maybe he’s done now, or maybe Brian’s hurt his feelings by laughing, Brian doesn’t know. So Brian says, “You have no idea how much I wish I was hard. That’s what I told her, too. Well, not in such explicit detail—not that I wished I could get a hard-on.” He pauses, laughing lightly. “But that I loved you, and I still wanted you, and I wanted things to go back to normal.”  
  
He feels Zack step back up behind him, feels the man’s fingers rake through his hair, then the man’s lip touch the top of his head in a gentle kiss. “I just want you to be happy again,” Zack tells him. “And I feel like having a normal sex life again might at least help. Or at least make you a little happier.”  
  
“It would,” Brian says, because he knows without a doubt that it would. It would make him feel better about their relationship—hell, make him feel better about himself. He chuckles a bit, and says, “I’ve become a creature of habit since I’ve been with you. I like waking up with you, then going about my day, then coming home to you. Eating, then fucking, then sleeping. Rinse and repeat. My routine is all fucked up now—just because we’re not, you know, fucking…”  
  
Zack laughs lightly, stroking his hair again. “Well the fact that you do still want to is good. I was actually kinda worried the other day when you were saying you never ever wanted to again…”  
  
“I don’t. I don’t want to again. But then I do. It’s hard to describe, it really is. I’m sorry,” Brian tells him.  
  
“Don’t apologize. I understand, I get it, I promise,” Zack tells him. Then, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll try, okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Brian agrees, and sighs a bit as Zack leaves him, heading for their bedroom. True to his word, he’s sporting a slight tent in the front of his scrub pants, half-hard from their somewhat intense conversation.  
  
“I’m going to shower and change. Will you get the pizza when it comes?” Zack asks, and Brian figures he must be going to rub one out if he’s planning on taking that long in the shower. He nods in answer, still feeling a little flustered himself, and watches as Zack disappears around the corner and out of sight.  
  
His mind wanders for a moment, thinking about Zack pleasuring himself under the shower spray, his cock thick and hard and curving up toward his belly. He only feels a little guilty for wanting, a little dirty for thinking about him that way, and he feels his cock twitch again in his pants. He figures this is probably a very good sign, all things considered.  
  
He reaches a hand down and squeezes himself through his jeans, sighing at the pressure. It feels good, satisfying, and he goes from squeezing to rubbing a bit, just feeling himself. His cock twitches a few more times from the attention, and then he can feel himself starting to harden.  
  
He stops at that, blushing and embarrassed by himself. What a cockslut, sitting on the couch just feeling himself up. He runs his hands through his hair, frustrated, and stands up to pace. Irritatingly enough, his mind stays stuck on Zack. He manages to make himself presentable by the time the pizza arrives, and pastes on that fake smile he’s so good at.  
  
Certain things never do change.


	9. Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~When Zack comes back inside, Brian looks over at him, his heart hammering in his chest, and asks, “Can we—can we try? Now?”~

Brian tries. He truly does.  
  
The first week in September rolls through, the weather still warm and sunny in their little corner of Cali. Brian has the whole weekend to himself, with Zack off as well on Saturday. They meet Val at the Bridal Emporium that morning, Val insisting that she wanted her ‘boys’ opinions’ on her dress choices. Brian had commented to Zack that this actually meant she wanted a gay man’s opinion on her dress choices, and Zack had just laughed, nodding in agreement.  
  
The wedding is coming up soon—June of that next year—and he’s a little surprised. He’d somehow missed just how close the date actually was. Val definitely needs to get her dress ordered so she has time for alterations and such.  
  
She’s already picked out a gown that she likes at a previous appointment, and she tries it on for them both once they arrive. It’s a beautiful mermaid cut gown that shows off her figure exquisitely, with a sweetheart neckline and a short train in the back. “Wow…” is all Brian know to say.  
  
“You look fucking gorgeous,” Zack says, moving over to her side. Brian smiles to himself as he watches Zack fuss over her—straightening out the train on the gown, smoothing down the fabric around her hips, pulling here and tightening there while the bridal consultant discusses the alterations.  
  
And it’s the atmosphere of the whole place, just the whole experience really. So many people there in love—and _excited_ to be in love—buying dresses and tuxes and making all these big decisions and preparations for _the_ day. _Their_ day. The day that they will express their love and commitment to each other, and celebrate that love and commitment with their friends and family.  
  
He doesn’t know how Zack feels about marriage. They live in Cali, it would be legal to get married, but it’s something that they’ve never talked about. It’s not as though Brian is going to leave, and he doesn’t think Zack is going to either. And to Brian, it’s already beyond just ‘boyfriends’—Brian stopped calling him that a long time ago. Zack is his partner, his lover, his significant other, any and all of the above.  
  
He wouldn’t mind adding ‘husband’ to that list… Though maybe he should just slow down a bit and handle one thing at a time before he goes and does something stupid.  
  
They finish with the dress shopping, meet Matt for dinner, then head back to their apartment—and Brian is feeling hopeful, happy, and in love. Zack puts his keys down on the counter then takes Ichabod out, and Brian sits on the couch thinking, and contemplating, and working up the nerve…  
  
When Zack comes back inside, Brian looks over at him, his heart hammering in his chest, and asks, “Can we—can we try? Now?”  
  
Zack seem thrown for a moment, blinking in surprise as he lets Ichy off of the leash, before he catches up with himself and stammers out, “Yeah, yes, of course.”  
  
He walks over and sits next to Brian on the couch, laying a gentle hand on Brian’s thigh. Brian’s suddenly, inexplicably nervous; he feels like a blushing virgin. And that in itself is so funny, he actually laughs aloud.  
  
“You okay?” Zack asks, slipping his hand down to squeeze Brian’s knee, expression concerned.  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says, trying to calm himself. Butterflies are swarming in his stomach. “Just nervous.”  
  
“Don’t be. It’ll be okay,” Zack says. He removes the hand from Brian’s leg, then turns him smoothly to face himself. He presses his lips to Brian’s, his hands coming up to cup Brian’s cheeks, and Brian shakily reciprocates, laying his hands on Zack’s shoulders to ground himself. Zack pulls away after a moment, his breath warm against Brian’s lips, and murmurs, “Are you sure you want to do this? You don’t have to…”  
  
“I want to,” Brian insists, reaching back for Zack’s lips. They’re thick and sweet, his snakebite piercings always a pleasant counterpoint to the heat of his kisses, and Brian moans quietly, letting his hands slide down to hold onto Zack’s arms, wrapping his fingers around the man’s tattooed biceps.  
  
They kiss slowly at first, Zack eventually turning the kiss wet and dirty, his tongue licking into Brian’s mouth. Hands begin to wander, Brian’s down to Zack’s chest, his thumbs rubbing Zack’s nipples through his t-shirt. Zack moans encouragingly into their kiss, his hands roving as well—first down Brian’s back, only to slide back up under his shirt, ghosting across bare skin. Then they are slipping around to his belly, fingers lightly teasing around his belly button, and the down, over the crotch of his jeans.  
  
And Brian tries, he really does. But he isn’t hard, even though he’s enjoying the kissing he still isn’t hard—and on top of that, Zack doesn’t pull back, doesn’t even seem upset or disgusted. He simply rubs him through his jeans, firm but not rough, obviously trying to get _something_ from him, and Brian is embarrassed. _So_ embarrassed.  
  
He pushes Zack off of him in a rush, gets up from the couch, and heads for the bedroom. He can hear Zack calling his name as he goes, but he ignores him, just shuts the bedroom door behind himself. He hopes Zack will take the hint, the fact that he’s shut himself up alone, and not try to follow him. But of course he hears the man just outside the door moments later. “Brian? Brian! It’s okay, just come back out here… Please!”  
  
“Just leave me alone!” Brian yells back, sitting down on the bed and burying his face in his hands.  
  
And Zack tries to talk to him later, once Brian’s fretted for a good twenty minutes, let himself into the bathroom to splash some water on his face, then gone back out to face Zack. But Brian shrugs him off, says he’s just changed his mind, and leaves the matter at that.  
  
But still he tries. He really does…  
  
They do the same thing two more times—once on the couch again, then once in the bed—with the exact same results. It’s disappointing, to say the least, and Brian curses himself, curses his body, curses all of his damn idiosyncrasies. He tells Lacey what is happening, and she simply tells him to stop running. To stop running from his own fear and disquiet, stop running from something he obviously _does_ want since he keeps coming back to it, and most of all, to _stop running from Zack._  
  
So they try one more time—with no better results.  
  
And then Brian stops trying.  
  
~*~  
  
September fades by, and October rolls in. The first round of exams in Brian’s classes come and go. Work is going well, and school is going well. For the most part, _everything_ is going well.  
  
Except they haven’t had sex in what is going on two months, maybe a little more. It’s the longest Brian’s ever gone without having sex with Zack. Hell, it’s the longest he’s gone without in years, ever since he can remember—or at least, since before he ever stepped foot on that street corner. And that has been almost nine years ago now.  
  
Halloween is sneaking up on them, and both Zack and Val are scheduled to work the evening of the actual 31st. Their small group decides to go out and celebrate their own Halloween the weekend prior, heading down to a local strip of clubs for a night of partying. They don’t dress up, and decide to just go in jeans and tees—the women slightly more bedazzled, but no costumes.  
  
Of course, Lacey meets them at the club with Johnny, and it’s the second time Brian’s seen her now outside of a therapy setting. It’s odd, the fact that he is so close to her yet no one else knows about that connection—and the fact that he doesn’t _want_ anyone to know. So he smiles politely at her and tries to act the part. She’s just Johnny’s girlfriend, and this is only his second time meeting her. Nothing more, nothing less.  
  
He’s nothing if not a good actor.  
  
Zack volunteers to be their designated driver—or at least have only one or two drinks and be ready to drive home at the end of the night—as long as Brian agrees not to overdo it. And Brian agrees, because he doesn’t want to get shitfaced drunk on Zack again. It hasn’t been pretty the last few times he did, and he doesn’t want to wake up the next morning hungover and embarrassed once again. Still, he’s had enough by the time he stumbles out smiling and giggling, and into the passenger side of Zack’s car.  
  
He sings along to Zack’s music on the way home, grinning drunkenly to himself, the drive short and fast. Before he knows it, he’s standing behind Zack, breathing down the back of the man’s neck as Zack unlocks the door to their apartment. Then he’s wandering inside, then watching as Zack grabs up Ichy to take outside, then standing alone in the middle of their family room.  
  
He takes in a breath, then lets it out. He’s dirty, sweaty from dancing at the club, but he’s also very tired. He might just wash his face, brush his teeth, and call it a night. So he meanders into the bedroom, then the bathroom, and peals his clothes off. He stretches, bending his spine back until it pops satisfyingly, then ambles over to the toilet to relieve himself.  
  
Zack comes back in while Brian is brushing his teeth. Brian’s grins at him from around his toothbrush before leaning back over the sink to spit, and Zack chuckles at him in response before beginning to undress as well. And Brian doesn’t know why—except he does know, it’s the alcohol still flowing through him leaving him loose and relaxed—but he straightens back up from the sink and sees Zack behind him, the man naked save for his boxer-briefs. And Brian is right there, naked as well save for his own boxer-briefs.  
  
Zack brushes past him to get to the sink, his body warm and skin smooth, and heat pools low in Brian’s belly. He’s turning into the man, burying his face into the curve of Zack’s neck and opening his mouth to press wet sloppy kisses to the skin there, all before it even registers what he’s doing.  
  
Zack seems to waver between ducking away and pressing up into the attention, before he finally murmurs out, “Brian?”  
  
“Mmm… I want you,” Brian mumbles, letting his lips slide up from Zack’s neck to his jawline, then trying to find his lips.  
  
But Zack dodges him, and asks, “Are you sure you’re not just drunk?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m kinda drunk,” Brian answers. He breathes Zack in, the sweet smell of his cologne intoxicating. “But that’ll just make this easier.”  
  
“Make this easier?” Zack parrots, still dodging his lips but not pulling away entirely.  
  
And if he’s not going to cooperate, then Brian is going to take matters into his own hands. He takes hold of Zack’s hips and turns him until he’s backed up against the bathroom counter, then Brian sinks down to his knees in front of him. “Yeah, easier,” Brian says, pressing his face to the front of Zack’s underwear. “Just gotta get over this hump, then everything will be okay. Be normal…”  
  
Zack takes a deep breath, his fingers finding their way to Brian’s hair, and Brian can _feel_ the moment he gives in. “Okay,” Zack says shakily, so Brian mouths his hardening cock through his underwear. But then, “Wait! Wait… If we’re doing this, we’re going to _do_ this.”  
  
And Brian doesn’t know what that means, so he just continues what he’s doing, kissing along the front of Zack’s underwear, teasing. The alcohol is having a much more characteristic effect on him now—he’s happy and affectionate and feeling sexy. He can even feel himself getting hard in his boxer-briefs, and he goes to sneak a hand down to squeeze himself through the fabric. But then Zack is looping a hand under his armpit and pulling him to his feet.  
  
“Come on,” Zack says, pausing to press a wet, passionate kiss to Brian’s lips before pushing him out of the bathroom and to the bedroom. “Into the bed. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”  
  
And okay, Brian gets it now. He lets Zack push him back into the bed, scooting himself back until there’s room for them both, and captures Zack’s lips again. But then as soon as Zack has settled in on top of Brian, he’s moving again, twisting himself around so that his feet are at the top of the bed and his face by Brian’s groin. Brian laughs drunkenly, and asks, “What’re you doing?”  
  
“If you’re going to give me head, then I’m giving you head too,” Zack answers simply, and begins to copy Brian’s moves from earlier, mouthing and teasing him through his underwear. Brian moans quietly, unable to help himself, and he hears Zack hum appreciatively. “Well, would you lookit this,” Zack says humorously, slowly pulling down the elastic waistband of Brian’s boxer-briefs until his erection springs free. Zack runs a finger up the underside of his length, still teasing, and Brian moans again, encouraging.  
  
They settle in next to each other on their sides, curled up into the each other, and Brian goes back to Zack’s cock, pulling him out of his boxers and beginning to kiss teasingly along the crown. He doesn’t go down in earnest until Zack does, the man wrapping his hand around the base of Brian’s cock and bobbing his head. So Brian copies his moves, wrapping a firm hand around his base, slipping his lips down over the head, and hollowing out his cheeks.  
  
And suddenly, he’s panicking. He’s not actually choking on Zack, but still he can’t breathe. He desperately tries to suck in air through his nose and around Zack’s cock, but he’s still suffocating. And it’s not Zack anymore, not their apartment or their bed anymore—it’s any number of different men holding him and forcing themselves on him, choking him in that back alley.  
  
He pulls off—suddenly realizing that he _can_ , that his head isn’t been held down—and scrambles up out of the bed. Someone is talking to him—Zack, he realizes vaguely—but he’s started gagging now, and he’s abruptly aware that he’s going to be sick. He staggers off toward the bathroom, hand held over his mouth until he gets to the sink, at which point he vomits, unable to stop himself.  
  
There are hands at his back then, warm and strong hands, and for a split second Brian thinks he’s going to have his face slammed down into his own sick. But then Zack is cooing soft, quiet nonsense to him—“Brian, babe, I’m so sorry… Shh, it’s okay… Take a deep breath, babe, take a deep breath…”—and something inside him quiets. He takes a deep breath as instructed, closing his eyes, and feels Zack run his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face.  
  
“You should just leave,” is the first thing Brian manages to say with a shaky breath. Zack starts to argue, but Brian cuts him off, talking over him before he can get anywhere. “Just pull me out a duffel bag and point me at the front door. You’d be so much better off.”  
  
“I am so done with hearing you say that crap,” Zack snaps crossly, reaching past Brian to turn the sink on. And despite his tone, he’s gentle as he smooths a wet hand across Brian’s sweaty forehead, then wipes Brian’s mouth. Then reaches down to pull Brian’s boxer-briefs back up over his hips, covering his limp dick. Brian can’t help but duck his head in shame.  
  
“Would you do me a favor?” Brian asks jokingly. “And hand me that bottle of Xanax in the medicine cabinet?”  
  
Except Zack doesn’t get it. “Hey, you could have one to take the edge off if you hadn’t been drinking. But not good to mix stuff, know?”  
  
“No. I meant, you know, the whole bottle,” Brian clarifies with a shrug, pulling away from the sink and Zack’s arms. He can literally _feel_ Zack’s heated stare boring a hole into his back as he walks back into the bedroom.  
  
“That’s not funny,” Zack replies tersely, following him out into the bedroom. Brian gets back into bed with an exaggerated flop, feeling wrung out and too embarrassed to discuss the matter further. Even if Zack is standing at the foot of the bed staring at him expectantly.  
  
“I’m going to sleep,” Brian tells him plainly. “It’s late. I’m tired. You have work tomorrow.”  
  
There’s a long, heavy silence before Zack answers, “Yeah, okay.” Though he doesn’t sound happy about it. Brian closes his eyes and listens as the man wanders back into the bathroom to perform his ‘before bed’ routine—washing his face, brushing his teeth, using the toilet. Brian pretends to be asleep when Zack comes back to bed, and avoids the inevitable talking to that would have followed.  
  
Brian doesn’t actually sleep that night.  
  
~*~  
  
Zack’s alarm goes off early the next morning as usual, and Zack rolls over out of bed, wandering off the get dressed and go to work.  
  
Except when Brian himself decides to get up out of bed, shuffling out of the bedroom and into the living area, he finds Zack sitting on the couch, legs tucked underneath himself, playing games on his tablet. Brian is _sure_ the man’s alarm went off that morning and he went to work—and Zack is dressed in his blue scrubs, so Brian can’t be hallucinating. At least, not that much.  
  
“I thought you went to work,” Brian says, frowning.  
  
Zack puts his tablet aside carefully, and Brian already knows why he’s home before he says anything. It’s written all over his face. “I called out sick,” Zack answers.  
  
“Oh, are you not feeling well?” Brian asks. He’s not going down without a fight, he’s not going to make this easy.  
  
“No, I’m okay, I’m just—Brian… I just, I’m worried.”  
  
And there it is. Brian sighs heavily, walking past him and effectively ignoring him as he heads to the kitchen. He’s going to get something to eat, even if he’s not hungry. Then hopefully he can avoid Zack’s indiscreet eyeballing.  
  
“Brian, it’s just—last night…” Zack starts.  
  
“I really don’t want to talk about it,” Brian says, opening the fridge door to peer inside. Someone needs to go grocery shopping again—Brian doesn’t know how they go through so much food so fast.  
  
“But that’s really it, isn’t it?” Zack says. “I’ve been trying, Brian. I’m trying to help you, to make things easier for you. But I don’t know what to do, because you won’t tell me. We try to have sex, and you freak out, then won’t talk to me about it. And I don’t know…”  
  
“I’m not ‘freaking out’,” Brian lies, though he does so with supreme indignation. “I just don’t want to. That’s all.”  
  
“No,” Zack says plainly. “ _You’ve_ come to _me_ and asked, so we tried. I have never once pushed you during any of this. If you don’t want to now, then fine, but you _did_ come to me and ask.”  
  
And God, he’s just handed Brian the easy way out. “Well, now I don’t want to,” Brian says, shutting the fridge door. Nothing appetizing there, so he heads for the cupboards.  
  
Zack sighs loudly. “Okay. Fine. That’s fine,” he says in reply. “But what changed? Why did you want to have sex then, but not now? What happened? Did I scare you, or upset you? Did…?”  
  
Zack trails off, seeming at a loss. And all Brian can do is glower at the dry foods in the cupboard, eventually settling on the Pop-Tarts and violently grabbing them off the shelf. _Nothing’s changed_ , he thinks idly. _I still want you. I still love you. But I’m terrified for some asinine reason, beyond terrified—terrified to the point of vomiting apparently. And I don’t know how to explain that to you any better than I already have._  
  
He’s seemingly been silent for too long, because Zack pipes up with, “Do you think I could go with you sometime? You know, to talk to your therapist?”  
  
Brian freezes. How the hell is he supposed to answer that one? Not only no, but hell no? It would be bad enough if he were just talking about seeing a no-name, nobody therapist with Brian. But he’s talking about seeing Lacey, who’s dating Johnny, who’s friends with Zack, and no. Not only no, but _hell no._  
  
“I just think if we could sit down together and talk things out in a safe environment…” Zack says.  
  
“No,” Brian says simply, ripping open the box of Pop-Tarts with far more force than required.  
  
Zack seems taken aback for a moment, or at least he goes silent. Then Brian hears him get up from the couch, bare feet padding across the floor and into the kitchen. Brian slams his Pop-Tarts into the toaster and glares at the kitchen counter. Zack comes up and leans against the counter next to him, staring at him sadly with those emerald green eyes.  
  
“Look, I don’t want to talk,” Brian says.  
  
“You rarely do,” Zack says. “But I’m getting tired of being shut out—I mean, do you even talk to your therapist? Or do you just sit there and stare at her… Or lie?”  
  
Brian bites back the urge to tell him to ‘fuck off’. Just barely, it’s still right there on the tip of his tongue. So he opens his mouth and says curtly, “I’ve got work at noon.”  
  
Zack sighs tiredly. “I know,” he answers, because of course he does. He fucking cares, and he listens and pays attention to Brian’s life. And Brian doesn’t deserve him. “Just think about it,” Zack says after a beat, pushing away from the counter. “I think if we could sit down and talk to your therapist together, we might be able to get somewhere.”  
  
Brian hums noncommittally, and grabs his Pop-Tarts out of the toaster.  
  
And Brian decides that if Zack can call out from work, then he can too. He calls Ellie from the bathroom to see if she can cover his shift, and hopes Zack won’t hear him. The walls of the apartment are thin, things are easily overheard. But Zack doesn’t say anything when he steps out of the bedroom dressed in his work clothes, though with no intention of going to work.  
  
Elli couldn’t cover for him, she said, but she’d managed to find someone else.  
  
So he leaves the apartment with a strained goodbye and an awkward kiss, buckles himself into his little VW, and drives off. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, or where he’s going. He picks up his cellphone at the first red light he comes to, starting to scroll through the contacts. Johnny…? No, the man doesn’t want to be bothered by Brian, that is if he is even off work. Like Zack at his own job, Johnny and Matt often have to work weekends at the police station. Which counts off Matt as well…  
  
He can’t call any of his other co-workers—not that he ever spends time with any of them outside of work—but he did just call out sick. Looking for one of them to go out and do something now would be a bit incriminating. And there’s Val and Michelle, but chances are Val’s at work. And Michelle…  
  
He hovers over the green call button for a moment before the light turns green, so the sets the phone down before calling and continues driving aimlessly down the road.  
  
The next red light, he scrolls up from Michelle’s name to the ‘L’s. He finds Lacey’s name, finger hovering over that green call button again, before giving in and pressing down. His heart beats frantically as the phone rings, and he considers hanging up, chewing anxiously on his bottom lip.  
  
But then Lacey answers, “Hello, Brian.”  
  
The direct greeting takes him aback. “How did you know it was me?”  
  
“I saved you as a contact,” she says, the inherent ‘duh’ on the end of that sentence unsaid but heard. Then, “What’s up?”  
  
“Nothing,” he says. Then, “Are you busy?”  
  
“No, actually,” she says. “I was going to go to a movie the evening with Johnny, but he just got called away to a crime scene. Mind stepping in instead?”  
  
“Uh, you sure Johnny won’t mind?” Brian asks.  
  
“If you were single and available, yeah,” she says, then smile audible in her voice. “But since it’s you, no, I don’t think he will.”  
  
And yeah, Johnny’s pretty laidback, he probably won’t care. “Yeah, I’ll take you,” Brian says. “I need to just… I dunno—relax for a while, I guess.”  
  
“Everything okay?”  
  
“Yeah, just…” Brian says, trailing off with a sigh. The light turns green, and he rolls forward from the light. “We tried again last night—you know, me and Zack. And it didn’t go well. At all.”  
  
“Oh, Brian, I’m sorry,” Lacey says. “Did you…?”  
  
But Brian cuts her off before she can get anywhere. He doesn’t want to talk about this right now—he didn’t want to talk about it this morning, and he still doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants to forget. “What time is the movie?” he asks her.  
  
She sighs, her disappointment sounding a lot like Zack’s. It almost makes him want to back up and confess everything. Almost. But he doesn’t, only humming an affirmative when she gives him the movie time and tells him to meet her there.  
  
So he drives on down the road toward the theater.  
  
~*~  
  
It’s getting late by the time he parts ways with Lacey.  
  
They see the movie—an ‘R’-rated romance with a lot of sex that leaves Brian wiggling in his seat, and wondering if Lacey has done this to him on purpose. Then they go out for a late-lunch, early-dinner, leaving Brian to tell her _some_ of what has happened, and how he’s feeling.  
  
Which is just mostly confused and embarrassed.  
  
He finds himself driving home at around five-o’clock—right on time for having worked a weekend shift. Except then he’s not driving home, he’s headed toward downtown. _His_ downtown. Where Zack’s clinic is, and where Brian’s corner is.  
  
It’s still daylight out, and the streetworkers haven’t stepped out onto the sidewalks yet. Brian drives through slowly, looking at what used to be his home—because this is all of it. The dirty food mart still there in the middle of the block, the lights half burnt out, where Brian used to get his dry foods and toiletries and cigarettes. The cheap motel on the corner that Brian would stay at when he had the money—or that the occasional john would take him to. It’s still there, as dirty and run-down as ever, but Brian can remember feeling like it was the damn Hilton. After all, it was his only opportunity for a real bed and a real shower.  
  
And then, finally, he rolls on up the corner. _His_ corner. It’s all so mundane and unobtrusive, like any other corner of the street—a dilapidated streetlamp hung over the sidewalk, litter along the curb. Yet Brian stops his car in the middle of the two lane road, holding up traffic, and tries to remember to breathe.  
  
A car horn sounds from behind him, and he lurches for, sneaker hitting the gas pedal with a little too much force. The alley he used to call home glides by, almost as startling a sight as the corner itself.  
  
And then he is driving further down the road, away and away, to his home. His real home. With Zack. He takes a deep breath, holding it in for a moment before finally letting it out. He feels all at once frazzled and drained, and he wonders idly why he’s done this to himself. He hasn’t been back there in years—hasn’t even been to Zack’s clinic in God knows how long. Zack usually takes care of any health problems at their apartment, eliminating the need for him to actually go downtown.  
  
He wonders for a brief moment what his life would be like now if Zack wasn’t around. Thinks about himself still on that corner, dirty and skinny and wrecked, and grips the steering wheel so hard his knuckles turn white. He turns the music on, cranks the volume up, and speeds home.  
  
Brian finds Zack in the kitchen busy heating up leftovers when he comes home. The man has changed out of his scrubs and is just wearing an old-t-shirt and loose fitted shorts, while Ichy sits on the tile floor by his feet, wagging his tail. It’s Brian’s own little family, and Brian has never been happier to see them in his life.  
  
“Hey, you’re home,” Zack says, smiling. And how he’s still genuinely pleased about this fact after Brian was an utter asshole to him this morning, and almost puked on his dick last night? Well, Brian can’t figure that one out either. Zack continues, “There’s more of this Chinese left if you want it—I can’t eat it all.”  
  
“Nah, I’m not hungry. I was snacking at work,” Brian lies. Then, after a pause, “I’m sorry.” And he is sorry—for lying just now, yes, but not just that. He’s sorry for not telling Zack everything that he should, everything that Zack wants to know. He’s sorry for not being able to perform, both physically and emotionally. He’s sorry for not being enough, and being too much all at once. He is just _so sorry_.  
  
“You’re sorry?” Zack asks, frowning.  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says. “For last night. And this morning…”  
  
Zack sighs heavily, leaving his plate of dinner on the kitchen counter and walking over to Brian. “Babe, you don’t have to apologize for last night,” he says. “And this morning, you have to understand, it’s just—I wish there was something I could do. But I don’t know, I feel so powerless. I just want to help you, but I don’t know how…”  
  
 _You can’t help me,_ Brian thinks idly, allowing himself to be drawn into Zack’s arms, into a warm and comforting hug. And this is how they do things now, Brian realizes—fight and make-up, fight and make-up. At least neither of them can manage to stay mad very long.  
  
 _You can’t help me_ , he thinks again.  
  
 _At least, not anymore than you already have._


	10. Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~He’s too shocked at the entire scenario—not just at the dream, but at what he and Zack have both just done—to really do or say anything intelligent.~

Brian looks up, blinking, and is suddenly cognizant of where he is…  
  
He’s standing on his corner downtown. It’s late, late enough that the streetlights are on, a dull glow in the dark of the night. The two hookers across the street are already on the curb, all high heels and fishnet stocking, hair pinned up off of their necks. And Brian? He’s in tight jeans and a light zippered jacket, unzipped just a little too far, made-up as good as any of them. He can _feel_ the eyeliner caked around his eyes, his hair sex tousled, and…  
  
He’s so confused. He shouldn’t be here. What is happening, how did he get here? If it’s dark out, he should be home with Zack—or if not home, then wherever Zack may be tonight. Or at least finishing up at work so he can leave and go home to Zack.  
  
His work at the coffee shop, that is. Not his work doing… _this._  
  
He wants to turn and leave, but his feet are somehow rooted to the sidewalk, his back glued to the brick wall of the building he’s leaning against. He doesn’t understand, and panic is beginning to rise in his chest. He is confused, and scared, and…  
  
“ _What_ are you doing out here?!”  
  
It’s a very familiar voice, and Brian jerks his head around to find Zack stomping down the sidewalk towards him from the direction of the clinic. At least the voice, and the piercing green eyes, and his favorite hunter green scrubs are barreling down the sidewalk—but in a strange surreal way, it’s not really Zack.  
  
In fact in that same strange, surreal way, _none of this_ seems real.  
  
But then Zack is standing in front of him, eyes narrowed into angry slits. “What do you think you’re doing?”  
  
“I—“ Brian starts. Then, “I don’t know.”  
  
“You should be home,” Zack tells him. “With me. Where you belong.”  
  
Which is pretty much what Brian had been thinking in the first place. The two whores across the street are watching the exchange in interest, and Brian ends up ducking his head in both shame and embarrassment. “I know,” he manages quietly. Then, “M’sorry.”  
  
“Maybe I need to remind you,” Zack says. “Do I need to remind you?”  
  
“Huh?” Brian asks, even more confused now. “What? Remind me what?”  
  
Which is apparently an affirmative that yes, he does need reminding, at least judging from the way Zack grabs him and crushes their lips together. It’s a hard kiss, a rough and demanding kiss, right there on the sidewalk for everyone around to see. And oh, there are plenty of nameless, faceless people around them living their day-to-day lives. Brian’s left breathless as Zack pulls away and grips him under his chin, watching him with an intense green stare. Finally, Zack says, “I guess I need to remind you that you belong with me. In my home. In my bed. By my side.”  
  
His words, his tone of voice, and the fire in his eyes make Brian’s insides flip-flop, and he groans, trying to turn his head and pull out of Zack’s grasp, overwhelmed. But Zack holds him steady, reaching back in for another kiss—once again wet, thorough, and dirty. When he pulls away, Brian gasps for air, wavering towards Zack’s lips again instinctively. Brian’s body is warm, heart beating fast, and he’s turned on, already hard and eager and wanting.  
  
“Maybe I need to remind these people too,” Zack says, gesturing absently at the faceless people still wandering by on the sidewalk, at the random car drifting by. “I think I do,” he continues, “I think I need to remind them that you are _mine_. And that they are not to touch you, or look at you, or even _think_ about you…”  
  
Brian moans again, reaching desperately for another kiss, but Zack denies him, roughly turning him instead to face the wall. Brian huffs as his chest hits the brick, but then Zack is up against his back, breathing hot against his neck, his hands wandering to his front. He finds the zipper on the jacket first and slides it down in one smooth motion, before his hands slide lower. He cups the bulge in Brian’s jeans, humming approving, before going for that zipper as well.  
  
“Look at you, so hard for me,” Zack says, easing Brian’s jeans down off his hips, then his underwear too. Zack wraps a hand around his exposed length, stroking him firmly, and says, “So good, so hard for me—and I’m the only person allowed to touch you like this, yeah? The only person allowed to feel you like this.”  
  
“Zack…” Brian moans quietly, so overwhelmed by what is happening. Zack is so close to him, his chest pressed up against Brian’s back, his hand hot and familiar and just-fucking-right around his cock, jerking him slow but steady. The people that are around them on the street and sidewalk are watching, still nameless and faceless, but Brian knows that they are there. Knows that they are seeing this, seeing Zack press him up into the brick, seeing Zack all but claim him as his own.  
  
His fingers claw at the brick, and he whines, begging—begging for what, he doesn’t know. For more? For their home? For privacy? Or for Zack to fuck him right there in front of everyone—for Zack to legitimately take him and claim him in front of these people? He has no idea…  
  
He calls Zack’s name again, almost a whine, and Zack shushes him in reply.  
  
“I know, babe,” Zack tells him. “I know—so desperate, so needy. But I always take care of you, don’t I?” Brian only moans in reply, which apparently isn’t satisfactory, because then Zack’s hand is entwined in Brian’s hair, jerking his head back until they are cheek to cheek. Zack nuzzles his exposed throat, and asks, “Don’t I, Brian? Don’t I always take care of you?”  
  
“Y—yes,” Brian manages to stammer out, breathless, so far gone. “Zack, please… _Please…_ ”  
  
“I know,” Zack says. Before taking his hand away from Brian’s cock, kicking Brian’s legs apart, and thrusting inside.  
  
And it should hurt, right? There’s been no prep, and no lube that Brian’s noticed. But maybe he had a john earlier before this, and he’s already relaxed and loose enough. He honestly can’t remember what he’s been doing. Hell, he can’t remember _anything_ before this—he can’t even remember how he got on this fucking street corner.  
  
But Zack feels good, _so good_. He’s fucking him hard, slamming Brian up into the brick with the force of each thrust, unapologetic for his behavior. Brian spreads his legs wider, throwing his ass back into each thrust, crying out in pleasure. And the people are still there wandering around them on the street, watching them, looking at them, seeing what they do in the privacy of their own home…  
  
And then there’s Zack. “Yeah, babe—show them,” he says, fingers digging into Brian’s hips hard enough to bruise. “Show them what a good lover you are to me. Fuck, Brian, tell them—yeah, keep screaming, babe. Show them how good we are, how I fuck you so good and make you come so hard…”  
  
Brian’s overcome, his fingers digging hard into the brick, panting from exertion. He wants to come, he’s so close—that heat is licking up and down his spine, only to curl in his gut. He fists a hand around his cock, gasping at the pleasure that spikes through him, and…  
  
~*~  
  
Brian chokes on a breath, eye flying open, and sits bolt upright in bed.  
  
He’s shaking, drenched in sweat, breathing heavy—and most noticeably, he has one hand still wrapped around his hard cock. He jerks his hand away as if he’s on fire, fisting his hands up in the sheets instead. He must have been unconsciously touching himself while he slept because of his dream—and that’s what it was, just a dream. A very fucked-up, ridiculous, unhealthy sort of dream, but still just a dream.  
  
He takes a deep breath, looking around himself. It’s dark outside, nighttime, and a glance at the alarm clock reveals it to still be in the wee hours of the morning. Brian swallows, and peers over in the bed at Zack. The man is lying very still, too still, almost as if he’s awake and waiting. Does he know what’s happening? Brian wonders. Was Brian talking in his sleep? Or worse yet, moaning like a wanton slut?  
  
And then he’s thinking of the dream-Zack: _I’m the only person allowed to touch you like this, the only person allowed to feel you like this—so desperate, so needy, but I always take care of you, don’t I?—show them how good we are, how I fuck you so good and make you come so hard…_ His cock twitches in his boxers, leaking precum against the fabric, and a breathy little whimper escapes from the back of his throat.  
  
He brings a hand up, biting at a knuckle, and glances over at Zack again. The man’s still lying far too quiet, and Brian’s worried, waiting for him to open his green eyes and give him an intense stare. But it’s probably paranoia, or at least that’s what he tells himself as he climbs gingerly out of bed. Zack is most likely just sleeping soundly, not moving, and Brian…  
  
Brian doesn’t want to do this, but he can’t just lie back down. Not right now. His body is thrumming madly, the dream still playing vividly in his mind, so he gets up out of bed as quietly as possible and pads off to the bathroom. He shuts the door behind himself just in case Zack does wake up. He doesn’t want the man to see or hear him.  
  
He jerks himself off over the toilet, quick and fast and to the point. It only takes him a moment, already to the point of breaking, and then he’s coming over his own hand, his release dripping down into the toilet. He slams his free hand into the wall as his knees go weak, trying to keep his balance, and he knows Zack will have heard that noise. Their walls are too thin.  
  
Still, he bites his lip to keep from crying out in pleasure, and shivers silently through the aftershocks, doing his best to stay inconspicuous. He flushes the toilet then washes his hands, splashes some cold water on his face to help gather himself back together, and takes one last moment for a few deep breaths. Then finally lets himself back out into the bedroom.  
  
Zack is still lying quiet and silent when Brian slides back into his side of the bed, and Brian breathes a sigh of relief, curling back up under the covers and closing his eyes. He tries to get back to sleep, tries to just let his body relax and drift, but he’s afraid to be unawares again. Afraid to be caught back up in that dream again.  
  
Then suddenly Zack is rolling quietly out of bed, bare feet silent on the carpet as he heads for the bathroom. Brian squints his eyes open to watch him, sees him step fully into the bathroom, hesitate for a moment, then shut the door behind himself.  
  
And they hardly ever shut the bathroom door anymore—it’s more of a courtesy move now as opposed to something they do for privacy. Unless, of course, Brian is shutting himself up alone in the bathroom to jerk off while his lover is lying right there in the bed. Then he’s looking for the privacy to be his own shameful self. But Zack…?  
  
Zack must have been awake enough to hear Brian, and now he’s doing the exact same thing. Brian finds himself keeping his ears pricked toward the bathroom, trying to listen for any noises, anything that may give him away. But everything is quiet, and it’s not long before the bathroom door is opened again and Zack is climbing back into bed.  
  
Brian stares at him, unable to stop himself. Does he want Zack to acknowledge him, he wonders, does he want a confrontation? No, not really. But still he gawks. He’s too shocked at the entire scenario—not just at the dream, but at what he and Zack have both just done—to really do or say anything intelligent. Especially shocked when Zack slips under the covers and wordlessly rolls over on his side, his back to Brian, and pretends to go back to sleep.  
  
 _Am I getting the silent treatment?_ Brian wonders. _Have we passed the point of wanting to talk things out, and now he’s just so pissed off that he doesn’t even want to speak to me?_ It’s Brian’s fantasy come true—at least the ‘no more talking about our feelings’ fantasy—except suddenly Brian is tied in knots. He’s gone and done it now, fucked up royally, fucked up bad enough for Zack to give up on him. He was actually turned on, wanting and ready with Zack lying next to him in the bed, and his gut reaction was to jump up and hide in the bathroom. _What is wrong with me?_ he thinks, and stares hard at the tattoos on Zack’s back.  
  
Finally, too tense and too worried, he blurts out, “You okay?”  
  
Zack’s quiet at first, before rolling slightly to glance at Brian over his shoulder. “Yeah, fine,” he says. “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian lies, chewing on his bottom lip.  
  
And even in the dark, those green eyes are so beautifully expressive. Zack’s not angry, no, but Brian can tell he’s not happy either. He looks more disappointed than anything else, and Brian waits for him to say something. Because Brian is sure now that he knows. He _knows_. But then Zack just says, “Go back to sleep, Brian.”  
  
He rolls back over, snuggling into the covers, and Brian watches him, sighing quietly.  
  
He doesn’t quite get back to sleep.  
  
~*~  
  
They don’t talk about it, which Brian finds miraculous. Zack doesn’t bring it up, and Brian is too embarrassed and ashamed to admit to anything, so nothing is said.  
  
Except Zack’s attitude changes, enough so that it’s immediately apparent to Brian that the man is upset. There are fewer smiles, fewer laughs, fewer hugs and fewer kisses, and his tone with Brian is generally clipped and snappish. They fight twice the very next morning over practically nothing, before Brian just decides to stay the hell out of the man’s way.  
  
The first Saturday in November leaves them both home, off work, which is making the day a little difficult for Brian. He leaves the apartment fairly early to run a few errands, then work out, but he’s back home far too soon. It’s hard to stay unobtrusive and not push each other’s buttons when they’re holed up in the apartment together all day. And with Zack being so testy, Brian’s not quite sure what to do with himself.  
  
So Brian showers, goes outside to smoke a cigarette, then tries to find something to do. Staying idle for too long only makes him more anxious and depressed, so he grabs the vacuum cleaner out of the closet and goes to work getting the dust and dog hair off the carpet. Zack eyes him from the couch as he makes his way into the family room, but otherwise doesn’t comment. Brian both enjoys and hates the quiet.  
  
“Hey,” Zack speaks up suddenly. When Brian looks over, the man has picked up his laptop and is motioning to the screen. “It’s my mom,” Zack says.  
  
Which Brian realizes is his cue to stop with the vacuum cleaner. Brian doesn’t know too much about Zack’s relationship with his family, other than the fact that his parents don’t agree with his ‘lifestyle choices’. Though he’s been Skyping with his mom recently, mending bridges so to speak. She’s probably just checking in on her son, making sure he has plans for Thanksgiving.  
  
Brian should turn the vacuum off and give Zack some privacy, he knows this, but instead he hums at Zack to acknowledge him and continues with the cleaning. Sure, he’s being a passive-aggressive asshole, but damn, it’s just so much easier to have a bad attitude.  
  
Zack lets out a very loud, put-upon sigh, then logs in. Brian can hear their conversation start up—‘hello’s’ and ‘how are you’s’ all around—and he continues on, making sure to stay away from Zack, and more importantly, away from the computer screen. Zack’s mother has only seen him in the photos Zack has sent her, and as far as Brian is concerned, it can stay that way.  
  
No mother wants to see the whore their baby is sleeping with.  
  
“Brian!” Zack snaps suddenly, and Brian turns to blink innocently at him. “Turn that off, for fuck’s sake. I can’t hear.”  
  
Brian does as he’s told, though he does it while glowering at Zack. Zack doesn’t even notice, though, too busy turning to look at his computer screen, eyebrows raised. His mother is saying something that Brian can’t make out from where he’s standing across the room.  
  
“What?” Zack asks. Then, after his mother repeats herself, he turns to Brian, his green eyes wide, “Uhm…”  
  
“What?” Brian snaps, irritated by his shocked expression and evasive stuttering.  
  
“She—uh, uhm… My mom wants to talk to you,” Zack says, fidgeting. Then, turning back to the computer screen, “Yes, Mom, it’s him. What other ‘Brian’ would be in my apartment?”  
  
And Brian has edged close enough now to hear her reply come through the computer. “Well, I don’t know,” she says. “I just wanted to make sure it was _Brian_ Brian…”  
  
 _Oh God, I’m_ Brian _Brian,_ is all he can think as he edges even closer, sitting down just next to Zack on the couch but far enough away to stay out of his mother’s sight. Zack eyeballs him sympathetically from his side, reaching over to lay a hand on his knee, and mouths a ‘sorry’ at him. Quite the change in demeanor from the last few days, and Brian knows why—Zack’s waiting for Brian to lose his cool, to have some sort of emotional crisis right now.  
  
And fuck him, Brian is not going to have a tantrum, or have a panic attack, or shut himself up in the bathroom to cry in the shower. Even if his stomach is doing backflips, and he’s feeling so anxious he could claw his eyeballs out, he _will not_ break down. Fuck Zack, and his fucking mollycoddling…  
  
“Zachary, I can see you whispering,” Mrs. Baker says, sounding annoyed. And so Brian steels himself, gathering all of his wits about him, and slides over next to Zack, close enough to be included in the webcam’s picture.  
  
The only picture Brian has ever seen of Zack’s mother was an old photograph from his high school graduation, the smiling family all gathered around Zack in his cap and gown. Brian had said then that Zack took after his mother—Zack’s soft round face and thick lips, his pale smooth skin, the shape of his nose and brow, it’s all a reflection of his mother.  
  
And even though that picture had been taken some twelve years prior, and the woman staring back at him now from Zack’s laptop screen is twelve years older, with deeper crow’s-feet and wrinkles—the resemblance is still undeniable. It’s startling, looking at her, and a sudden thought occurs to him; if it weren’t for her, Zack wouldn’t even exist.  
  
But he should probably say something instead of just staring at her blankly. He clears his throat, gives her his best smile, and says, “Hi, Mrs. Baker. It’s nice to meet you.”  
  
She smiles back at him—so much like Zack’s smiles—and says, “Brian! It’s nice to finally meet you, too. Zack’s told me a lot about you.”  
  
His stomach flip-flops nervously, and he wonders what exactly Zack has told her, wonders exactly how much she knows. Regardless, he swallows down his anxiety and says, “All good things, I hope.”  
  
“Of course, of course,” she says. And Brian wonders about what Zack has told him—their disagreements over his homosexuality, and his being in a relationship and living with another man. She’s being far too polite to truly be angry about anything, even if Brian feels the conversation is a bit stunted and awkward.  
  
Though he really can’t imagine this situation being completely comfortable under any circumstance. Meeting the parents for the first time is just, well, _weird…_ He figures they must view him as the one defiling their precious, perfect baby—a thought which continuously occurs to him unbidden during the conversation.  
  
But she continues speaking with a smile. “I like it already that you’re back there running the vacuum for him,” she says, then points a finger a Zack, directing her attention to her son. “Don’t ever tell him to stop vacuuming. Do you know what I would give to get your father to clean the house every once in a while?”  
  
“Uh…” Zack starts, apparently a little unsure how to respond. He looks over a Brian for a moment, blushing, embarrassed, before he admits, “He actually does most of the chores. You know, around the apartment.”  
  
And yeah, well, Brian supposes he does. But, “You work a lot more than me, though. I’ve got more time. And I don’t mind.”  
  
Zack smiles at him gently, the first real and true smile he’s had directed at him in days, and Brian’s stomach flip-flops for an entirely different reason. “See, Mom!” Zack says, turning back to the computer screen. “I told you.”  
  
“You told her what?” Brian asks, only a little worried.  
  
But Mrs. Baker just rolls her eyes. “I think he’s referring to the fact that he’s always telling me how sweet you are—or at least, any time I hound him about how he’s doing and how he’s being treated,” she says, which Brian never knew came up in discussion. “Though I’m not really sure the fact that you clean up after him means that…”  
  
“Mom!” Zack grates out, annoyed. “I just meant… Goddamnit we’ve been together for over two years now. It’s time to let it go.”  
  
And Brian’s not quite sure what they’ve started arguing about, until Mrs. Baker counters with, “And you were with Alex for how many years? Five? Excuse me, but I still worry.”  
  
Zack lets out a frustrated whine, rolling his eyes, but Brian gets where she’s coming from. Brian totally gets it. “Zack, she’s allowed to worry. It’s okay,” he says. And thinks absently, _I wish I still had a mother to worry about me…_  
  
Mrs. Baker eyes him appraisingly, apparently liking his response, before saying, “Thank you, Brian.” Then, “And I promise I didn’t call you over here just to argue with Zack in front of you. What I wanted to ask was—I feel like it’s high time we got the whole family together, including you. Zack hasn’t been to a Thanksgiving or Christmas with us in years—“ _At least not since he’s been with me,_ Brian thinks. “So I would really love it if you guys would come up and have Thanksgiving dinner with us.”  
  
“Mom,” Zack says exasperatedly, while Brian flounders for words in a haze of anxiety. Zack continues, “Is Dad okay with this?”  
  
“I haven’t asked him,” she answers. “I intend on it happening whether he’s okay with it or not.”  
  
“Oh,” Zack says, sounding surprised.  
  
“Zack, we’ve talked about this,” she says, sighing. “I’m done caring about whatever grudges and hang-ups and misconceptions your fathers has. I just want you to be happy, and I want us to be a family again. And since it’s been two years, that family is obviously going to include your… Your Brian.”  
  
Zack frowns. “My partner, Mom. He’s my partner.”  
  
“I don’t mind being ‘your Brian’,” Brian comments to Zack, earning him a grin from Mrs. Baker. _Nice,_ he thinks, _I’m earning brownie points with the mom without even trying…_  
  
“At least think about coming,” she says. “I know it’s a bit of a drive, but you can stay the night after dinner. Drive home in the morning. Bring your little dog. I really want you both there.”  
  
“Okay, Mom,” Zack says. “We’ll think about it.”  
  
And Brian’s left reeling as Zack finishes up the conversation, they say their goodbyes, and he closes Skype. Zack says something to him, but Brian doesn’t process it, too busy fretting. He eventually blurts out, “What have you told her?”  
  
“Wait, what?” Zack says, tucking a leg underneath himself on the couch to turn toward Brian.  
  
“What exactly have you told her?” Brian asks. “About me?”  
  
“Oh, you know,” Zack says with a smile. “That you’re so sweet, and care about me a lot. And how you’re going to school at the state college, and work at the coffee shop, and… uh…” He trails off, frowning at the rigid stare Brian is giving him. “But that’s not what you’re talking about, is it?”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Zack, no. Of course not,” Brian snarls, rolling his eyes so hard it hurts. “Does she _know_? Does she know you’re sleeping with a whore?”  
  
The way Zack opens and closes his mouth repeatedly, looking like a fish out of water, answers the question without words. And Brian—his chest aches with dread—he’d just spoken to Zack’s mother, who knew the entire time that Brian was the hooker her son was fucking. Oh God… And then Zack says, “You’re not a whore, babe.”  
  
Which is even more of confirmation. Brian takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair, trying to calm himself. “ _Why_ did you tell her?” Brian asks, voice broken. “Why would you do that? Why would you do that to her? Why…?  
  
“It’s complicated,” Zack says, which was not the answer Brian was expecting.  
  
Brian gapes as Zack stands up from the couch, obviously irritated by the turn in conversation, and closes his laptop. “No, it’s really not. Either you told her, or you didn’t. It’s very simple.”  
  
“I didn’t tell her, no. I didn’t tell either of my parents,” Zack says, terse. He walks into the kitchen then, keeping his back turned to Brian. Classic escape. “But I told my brother. Matty, know? And well, it got around.”  
  
“You told your brother?” Brian asks, exasperated.  
  
“Yes, I told my brother,” Zack says, turning to glare over his shoulder at Brian. “But not like you’re thinking, because I can fucking _feel_ you thinking. The last Thanksgiving I went up there, Matty and I stayed up super late and got shitfaced drunk. And that was the Thanksgiving after I met you, before I even knew you really—you probably don’t even remember, I was probably just another guy at that point…”  
  
“No,” Brian blurts. “No, I remember.”  
  
That brings Zack up short, silencing him momentarily. “Oh, I… Oh,” he says eventually. Then, “But anyway, I, uh… I told him that night when I was drunk. I told him I’d paid a prostitute to sleep with me, and we had a good laugh over how desperate I was. And—and some other stuff.”  
  
“And some other stuff?” Brian prompts.  
  
“Yeah. Other stuff,” Zack says with a sigh. He leans his back against the fridge, looking over a Brian. “Just shit I wish I hadn’t said now, but… I didn’t know you, and I was drunk. Not much of an excuse, I know.”  
  
“What? What shit?” Brian asks.  
  
“I—I didn’t know you,” Zack reiterates. Then admits, “Shit, I—I told him that you were worth more than I paid for. And that you sucked cock like a champ. And that I wanted to… To… No.”  
  
“You wanted to what?” Brian presses.  
  
“It’s not important now,” Zack says. And Brian can’t really fault him—Brian withholds enough information. The fact that Zack has willingly revealed what he just has is somewhat mind-blowing to Brian. Zack breezes on, “The point is, I told him I was paying a prostitute. And then you were still around months later, as _you_. My Brian. And I was talking to Matty about it you on Skype for the first time, and he fucking asks how we met…”  
  
Brian laughs, he can’t help it. He’s run into the problem before, and has developed the go-to lie for it. _I got mugged while downtown, and he helped me at the clinic. Not to sound cliché, but there was just a connection. Blah, blah, blah…_  
  
Zack grins a bit, apparently knowing what Brian is laughing about. “Yeah, I know, right?” he says. “It was the first time anyone had ever asked me that, and I didn’t know what to do. I just started stammering about you being in the clinic, and I wasn’t making much sense. And Matty was just immediately like—‘he’s the hooker’. My fucking brother, man, too fucking smart for his own good.”  
  
“But your parents?” Brian asks.  
  
“How do you think?” Zack asks, rolling his eyes. “My dumbass brother let it slip.”  
  
“What?!” Brian snaps.  
  
“I was so angry with him. Still kinda am,” Zack says. “But he swore he thought they knew. Which I call bullshit on, he was just trying to stir shit up. He’s like that sometimes.”  
  
There’s an odd beat of silence, Zack seemingly not knowing what else to say, before Brian asks, “What did they say?”  
  
“They?”  
  
“Your parents?” Brian clarifies.  
  
“They’ve never brought it up. I wouldn’t even know that they know if Matty hadn’t told me. But yeah, it’s like the _thing_ that everyone knows but no one talks about. I dunno.” He stops, laughing. “We put the ‘fun’ in dysfunctional.”  
  
“Everyone does,” Brian says, suddenly tired. He rubs a hand over his forehead, feeling a headache coming on.  
  
“I’m sorry,” Zack says after a moment. “I know you weren’t planning on this.”  
  
And Brian wants an out. Wants Zack to offer him an excuse to not go, to stay home, away from the judging eyes of his family. But unfortunately, none comes. Zack simply turns back to the fridge, pulling the door open and reaching inside for a soda. Brian sighs quietly, and lies, “It’s okay. She’s right, it’s time we met as a family.”  
  
Zack gives him a pleased little smile, while Brian does a mental count of the weeks he has to get his shit together. Just over two weeks before Thanksgiving. Not much time to get control of the mental case he’s become.  
  
In fact, not _enough_ time at all.


	11. Part 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~“I think maybe,” Zack says with a sigh. “I think you’re only clinging to me out of obligation, and you don’t understand what you’re feeling. If we spent some time apart, then maybe you could sort out better exactly how you’re feeling.”~

After the short conversation with Zack’s mother about their consequent holiday plans, Brian is left in a wreck. That is, even more of a wreck than before, something Brian didn’t even know was possible. He’s left counting down the days until Thanksgiving with the sort of dread one would usually reserve for their own execution—except an execution would honestly be a relief at this point. He thinks occasionally while he’s out during the day about just running his car off the road—he could just lie and say his brakes failed if he somehow survived. Though he never does get the balls to actually do it.  
  
He wants to meet with Lacey—no, _needs_ to meet with Lacey—and talk to her about what to do and how to handle himself with this holiday dinner. He’s terrified of saying something stupid, or making a scene, or God, having an anxiety attack in the middle of Zack’s family’s dining room. All seem equally likely. But their schedules aren’t matching up, Brian’s days off not working for Lacey and Lacey’s days off not working for Brian. Weeks pass with no appointment, no talking, nothing resolved.  
  
He’s pretty much resigned himself to it all being a disaster—or maybe he’ll just feign illness the morning of, he can’t decide. But then Lacey calls him the day before Thanksgiving, all apologies for not being available, telling him to meet her for coffee at Starbucks. So Brian does, able to leave the apartment freely while Zack is at work, not even having to explain where he’s going.  
  
Not that it hasn’t been a lot easier now that Zack _knows_ Brian is seeing a psychiatrist. There’s no more lying, all Brian has to do is say ‘I have an appointment’ and go meet Lacey. And Zack is more than understanding, completely positive toward it all. But of course he would be, he’s _Zack_ …  
  
He and Lacey sit at a table in the corner, as far away from anyone else as they can manage in a busy Starbucks. It’s private enough, especially considering Brian doesn’t have anything sexual to discuss with her this time around. He just needs to talk about Zack, and Zack’s parents, and the fact that _they know_ …  
  
And he’s in the middle of explaining this to her, taking comfort in her empathy and understanding, when he happens to glance up at the entrance only to see Zack opening the door. He’s all pitch black scrubs and Nike sneakers, with a complex and almost unreadable expression plastered on his face. It’s somewhere between angry, confused, and hurt, and of course it’s directed right at Brian.  
  
“What the hell?” Brian hisses, while Lacey frowns at him then glances over her shoulder. Zack is supposed to be at work, what is he doing here? Brian suddenly wonders if he’s dreaming again, wonders if Zack is about to come over, bend him over the table, and fuck him in the middle of the Starbucks. Because Zack being here makes just about as much sense as that scenario.  
  
But the Zack that beelines to their table and leans down next to Brian is very real. His skin is smooth, his tattoos vibrant, and he is _fuming_. Angry doesn’t even begin to cover it, and Brian doesn’t quite understand why he’s so mad, until Zack speaks up.  
  
“Look, I asked you several times, because I thought. I did, I’ll admit, no matter how many times you said otherwise, I still thought,” Zack hisses in Brian’s ear. “And I hoped you’d come around, or stop stringing me along, or _something_. But really? This?” He huffs, gesturing at Lacey. “You’re going to screw around on me with our _friend’s girlfriend?_ Are you _fucking serious?_ ”  
  
“Wait, wait, wait,” Brian says, at the same time Lacey is muttering complacencies. But Brian is angry now. Because Brian has told him, told him numerous times. After everything he’s been through, after everything _they’ve_ been through, how can Zack come in here and begin throwing accusations around? He wants to say as much, or at least tell him to back off, it’s not what he thinks. But what comes out of his mouth instead is, “What the hell, why are you here? Weren’t you at work? Are you following me around?”  
  
Zack visibly bristles, and bites out, “I got off early, and was gonna stop for coffee on the way home. But I saw your car in the parking lot, and so I came inside. I thought we could, I dunno…” He stops to glare at Lacey, who tries to cut in. But Zack charges on, turning his gaze back to Brian, “Nevermind, just—just stay with her tonight. Don’t come home.”  
  
Zack steps back at that, frowning down at Brian, seeming more dejected now than anything else. And something inside him breaks as Zack turns and heads back for the exit, leaving Brian sitting in his chair, stunned. “Wait,” he calls, moving to stand. “Wait, Zack! Wait!”  
  
Zack ignores him, though several other customers in the shop are now looking over at him in concern. Lacey shushes him, already on her feet, and says, “Sit back down, Brian. Just wait a second. I’ve got it, I’ll get him.”  
  
And so Brian does—mainly because he’s broken out in a cold sweat, and his breath is coming too fast, and he feels like he’s shaking all over—not because he wants Lacey to go out and handle his problems. He wants to go after Zack and explain himself, tell him what is going on and how he feels and _why would you_ actually _think I was cheating on you?!_  
  
But he sits at the table alone, trying to remember what Lacey has told him about relaxation and breathing techniques. He’s far too focused on what’s going on outside to stay calm, though, watching in complete apprehension as Lacey catches up to Zack just outside the glass doors.  
  
He watches as Lacey stops Zack from going to his car with a hand on his shoulder, and watches as Zack throws her off of him. He watches as Zack’s lips curl into a half-snarl, one hand raising to point a finger at Lacey, and watches as Zack starts snapping at her, the harsh tone of his voice audible inside even though Brian can’t make out the words. But then Lacey is grabbing the man’s hand up and speaking over him, and Brian watches as Zack visibly deflates.  
  
The two talk outside for a bit—for what feels like hours, but in reality Brian recognizes is just a few minutes. Zack continuously glances inside at Brian through the glass windows, eyes so incredibly worried and sad. At least he’s not angry anymore, Brian figures. But Goddamnit, the man is always worried and sad—and always worried and sad about Brian, at that. Brian can’t take it anymore, so he gives up on trying to breathe slow and calm, and just digs his fingernails into the palms of his hands instead.  
  
But then they are coming back inside and walking over to the table far too soon, and Brian is not ready for any kind of confrontation. He fidgets nervously, refusing to look at anyone, feeling childish but unable to help himself. He hears Zack mutter an apology, right before Lacey says, “Alright, Brian. Me and you, we’re going to go find somewhere outside to sit. And Zack’s going to get himself something to drink, then join us. Okay?”  
  
“Okay,” Brian mutters, fearful. He stands, fidgeting, and follows Lacey outside.  
  
He settles down across from Lacey at one of the outdoor tables, looking around himself. There’s no one else sitting outside, no one else sitting around them. It’s much more private than the tables inside, and he takes a deep breath, knowing now why Lacey has dragged them out here.  
  
“He wants to talk to you.” Lacey begins speaking. “I explained everything to him—at least, that we were meeting as therapist and patient. That you’d been seeing me for therapy before I knew there was a conflict of interest. He seemed understanding—but he said he wanted to talk, the three of us together. I thought that was a fair request.”  
  
“I don’t want to talk to him,” Brian says immediately, stomach twisting, nervous.  
  
“Just for a little while, okay?” Lacey asks, though Brian can recognize that it’s not a question up for debate. “It will be good for you both.”  
  
It’s not too long before Zack emerges from inside, a cup of Starbucks coffee in his hands, and looks at Brian with such sadness in those green eyes. He sits down at the table next to Brian, setting his cup down, and murmurs, “Brian, babe, I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says. “Yeah, you really should have.”  
  
An odd, awkward silence follows, until Lacey speaks up to get things started. “Brian, how are you feeling right now?”  
  
Brian sighs. “I dunno,” he says, but then elaborates under Zack’s concerned gaze. “Tired… I’m so freaked out all the time, and I get myself so worked up—then I’m just exhausted. I just… I don’t have the energy to do this right now.”  
  
Lacey hums understandingly, while Zack frowns. Zack eventually speaks up. “Don’t you think he needs to be on something?” he asks, attention directed at Lacey. “Medication, I mean. Because this is _classic_ anxiety disorder.”  
  
“Oh, he’s diagnosed me and everything,” Brian mutters under his breath, which earns him pointed looks from both Zack and Lacey.  
  
“We’ve discussed medication,” Lacey answers, eyes sliding back to regard Zack. “But I know you’re aware of the side effects most of those medications have. And considering that one source of Brian’s anxiety is his inability to perform, I don’t want to prescribe him anything that may physically hinder that.”  
  
And damn it, she’s got a new euphemism for it every time he sees her. _Inability to perform_. He chokes on a laugh, trying to cover it up by scratching at his nose. Zack watches him, obviously waiting for his input, but Brian really has nothing more to say.  
  
Except apparently Zack has plenty to say—and Brian isn’t going to like it, he can tell by the firm set of Zack’s jaw, as if the man is steeling himself. Then finally, “I’m not sure that that is a thing.”  
  
“Excuse me?” Lacey asks, confused.  
  
But Brian understands, he can read the look on the man’s face. And he cannot believe… “I cannot fucking believe that you would say that,” Brian hisses, annoyed.  
  
“Wait, we’re here to talk things over. Not to get angry,” Lacey says quickly, extending her hands out in a placating gesture. “Now, what exactly did you mean, Zack?”  
  
“I just…” Zack starts, then turns toward Brian. “You keep saying I should tell you to leave. But Brian, if you want to leave, just go. You don’t need my permission. I’d rather you just go as opposed to stringing me along.”  
  
“Wait, what?” Brian snaps. “What are you even talking about?”  
  
“It seems like there’s a communication problem here,” Lacey begins, but Zack starts talking over her.  
  
“What do you mean, ‘what am I talking about’?” Zack says, sitting back in his chair. “If you aren’t attracted to me anymore, or not in love with me anymore, then I’m not holding you here… I’m—“  
  
“Woah, woah, woah,” Brian says, holding his hands up. “Whoever said I wasn’t in love with you, or wasn’t attracted to you anymore? I don’t remember ever saying that…”  
  
Zack falls silent at that, eyes downcast to the ground. Lacey steps in. “But you feel that, Zack?” she prompts. “You feel like he isn’t attracted to you, or isn’t in love with you anymore?”  
  
Zack nods wordlessly, and all Brian can do is spit out, “That’s ridiculous.”  
  
“Is it? Really?” Zack asks, then laughs humorlessly. “Brian, you’re miserable. You don’t eat enough, you don’t sleep well, you’ve lost weight. You’re constantly asking me to kick you out over something—or nothing. You rarely want to spend time with me anymore. And you were right, we fight now a lot more. And we haven’t had sex in months…”  
  
“That’s not…” Brian says, cutting him off while trying to come up with the right words. Some variation of ‘that’s not fair’ combined with ‘I’m fucking _trying_!’ He finally settles on, “I can’t help it, Zack. I dunno… I’ve tried.”  
  
And he hopes Zack understands—he’s referring to the sex, yes, but not just the sex. He’s referring to them, their relationship, his feelings toward them, _everything…_ But Zack doesn’t seem all that impressed by his excuse. The man only crosses his arms in front of himself, eyeing Brian speculatively, before cutting his eyes over to Lacey. He opens his mouth, takes a breath, then closes it, obviously trying to choose what to say. Brian thinks this is probably a bad sign.  
  
Finally, Zack says, “I don’t want to say something here that is going to—to violate Brian’s trust in me.” He pauses, looking back at Brian. “I mean, there’s a whole lot I want to say, but…”  
  
Brian can’t help but laugh. “You won’t believe the shit I’ve told this woman,” he says. “If you’ve got something to say, then say it.”  
  
Lacey nods encouragingly, and Zack fidgets for a moment, fingers playing idly with the lid to his coffee cup. Eventually, he says, “You say you ‘can’t help it’—and you’ve ‘tried’. Yet you’re perfectly capable of, well, what do you wanna call it? Perfectly capable of getting up in the middle of the night and stroking it in the bathroom while I’m lying in the bed _right there_.”  
  
“Zack, fucking—that’s not fair,” Brian mutters, almost feeling too pathetic to get angry. “You don’t understand. Stop.”  
  
“Well, you can at least see…” Zack starts, but then Lacey is cutting in.  
  
“Is that true?” she asks Brian. “Have you been capable of mastur…”  
  
“No!” Brian squawks, agitated, not about to let her get the entirety of _that_ word finished and spoken. “No! I mean, yes, but it was just the once. I had a dream.” _And it was horrible._  
  
“Yeah, I was lying right there while you were dreaming, and then when you woke up,” Zack says. “And you were definitely not interested in me once you were awake. Or ever. So how am I supposed to feel?”  
  
“It’s not all about you, Zack,” Brian bites out, earning himself a glare.  
  
“I think maybe,” Zack says with a sigh. “I think you’re only clinging to me out of obligation, and you don’t understand what you’re feeling. If we spent some time apart, then maybe you could sort out better exactly how you’re feeling.” A glance at Lacey, “What do you think?”  
  
And it’s what Brian has been asking him to do for months—leave Brian behind and get on with his life without Brian’s wretched presence by his side. But now faced with the real possibility of no longer being a part of Zack’s life, Brian’s heart is racing and he’s breaking out in a cold sweat. _No, no, no, no, no…_  
  
“Brian?” someone is asking him, but he’s stuck in his own head, imaging any number of different circumstances where Zack is not with him, where he has never met Zack. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Zack actually leaves. Zack will take a little piece of him—no, he’ll take part of Brian’s very soul—if he goes. And Brian _cannot_ , he cannot do this…  
  
Someone grabs his hand, and Brian looks over to see Zack kneeling on the concrete beside his chair, green eyes scared. Brian grips Zack’s hand back desperately, glancing over to where Lacey in leaning across the table toward him, hands extended, worried. “It’s alright,” she tells him. “You’re alright. We’re still here, you’re not alone.”  
  
“Don’t leave me,” Brian all but cries, clinging to Zack. “Please…”  
  
“Brian, I’m not going anywhere. I just…” Zack starts, but Brian can’t let him finish.  
  
“I know what I said, and I know how you said you’re feeling. I’m so, so sorry. I’ll try harder, I promise,” Brian says, babbling, unable to stop even as Zack is shushing him. “I’ll do better. I’ll be better. I promise. I can’t breathe…” He stops for a moment, trying to catch his breath amidst Zack’s continued shushing. Then, pitching his voice low so hopefully Lacey won’t hear, “I’ll even let you fuck me. I’ll take some Xanax or something, calm myself down, and…”  
  
“For fuck’s sake, Brian!” Zack barks, reaching up to hold onto Brian’s face with his free hand. Brian has his head snapped up, forcing his eyes to focus on Zack’s face, while he continues to hang on desperately to Zack’s other hand. “Are you even listening to yourself?” Zack carries on, voice too harsh for Brian’s liking, but the man’s eyes are still just scared, not angry. “I’m not going to—no, a thousand times no. It’s okay, just calm down, it’ll be okay. I won’t—“  
  
“Please don’t leave me,” Brian begs, still panicked and beyond caring. He sounds pathetic, and weak, and Lacey is sitting right there to hear this, but he just doesn’t care. “Zack, please don’t—I still love you. I’m still _so_ in love with you. It’s the only reason I get up out of bed some mornings. You. You’re the only reason. The only reason I haven’t just given up. I—I dunno…”  
  
“Okay, it’s okay. I understand, babe,” Zack says, still looking alarmed. Brian realizes this is the first time Zack has actually seen him have a panic attack. He’d had the first one at the coffee shop, sure, and then another one since then while talking to Lacey. But never in front of Zack, not until now, and apparently it’s been enough to scare the man.  
  
Though Brian supposes that if Zack started to panic and hyperventilate in front of him, it would probably scare Brian as well.  
  
“It’s just I think,” Zack starts delicately, glancing over at Lacey, then back to Brian. “I think that you may be more afraid of being alone, than actually in—actually anything else.”  
  
Brian shakes his head emphatically. No, no, no… Zack sighs, then looks to Lacey as if for confirmation, or guidance.  
  
Lacey sighs in return. “I can’t tell you what to do, Zack. And I can’t quell your doubts. That’s something you have to work out between yourselves,” she says. “But if you’re just looking for input? Brian has never once given me any indication that he wasn’t fully committed to your relationship, or that he wasn’t in it for the right reasons.”  
  
Zack sighs, nods, then stands from the concrete. Brian watches him, watches as he smooths down his scrub top then looks across the parking lot, frowning thoughtfully. Brian doesn’t let go of his hand, and Zack doesn’t try to pull it away from him.  
  
“He came to me for counseling months ago not only for his own mental health, but because he knew his problems were creating a strain on the relationship,” Lacey adds. “That’s a _good_ sign, looking at the relationship from a psychiatric perspective.”  
  
Zack nods, squeezing Brian’s hand gently. “Do you wanna stay and talk more?” he asks Brian. “Or are you pretty much done?”  
  
Brian nods. “Done,” he clarifies, standing shakily. Zack holds his hand as he stands, trying to steady him, and while Brian’s first instinct is to throw the man off, he lets Zack help him for Zack’s sake, not his own. They say a quick goodbye to Lacey, who wishes them well, then Zack begins ushering Brian in the direction of his hybrid. But wait… “Zack, I drove here,” Brian says, stopping him and trying to extract his hand from Zack’s grasp. “I gotta take my car home. Can’t leave it here.”  
  
“You don’t need to be driving,” Zack answers simply, not allowing Brian to turn and go back to his own car. “We can come back and get it later. Tomorrow.”  
  
“Tomorrow is Thanksgiving,” Brian complains, standing resolutely in the middle of the parking lot. “And we have _plans_ already. Just let me drive home. I’m fine.”  
  
“No,” Zack replies, that edge in his voice that tells Brian’s he’s already lost this battle. “I don’t want you driving after that. You can just ride home with me. We’ll get your car tomorrow.”  
  
“If they haven’t already towed it,” Brian gripes, but allows himself to be drug along to Zack’s car all the same.  
  
~*~  
  
It’s on the drive home, glancing at Zack out of the corner of his eye, the man’s face drawn in worry and frustration, that the guilt begins to creep up into Brian’s stomach. He fidgets nervously at first, not quite sure what to do with himself or how to cope, before he finds himself apologizing again, “Zack, I’m sorry. I’m _sorry_.”  
  
“Don’t,” Zack says, giving Brian a quick look as he continues to drive. “Don’t. It’s okay. I just—I miss you, okay? I can’t help it.”  
  
Brian nods, biting his lip. He tries to bite back to urge to apologize again, but ends up rambling out another rushed ‘I’m sorry’ anyway.  
  
Zack doesn’t comment on this. Instead, he says, “And it’s not just about the sex, I don’t want you to think—though that is a part of it… But it’s just, we still live together but we _don’t_. At all. We don’t hug, we don’t kiss. And you don’t tell me anything anymore—not that you were ever much for sharing, but, I still felt like you were comfortable enough to come to me with anything, no matter how big or small. But not anymore…”  
  
“You never told me any of this—any of how you were feeling. Until now,” Brian points out. _I didn’t know…_  
  
Zack sighs. “Okay. Fair enough. I just—I don’t really have an excuse. I thought you’d figure things out eventually, I dunno. And I didn’t want to give up on you.”  
  
“I don’t want to leave,” Brian begs quietly as they stop at a red light.  
  
There’s another long sigh from Zack, and then Zack’s hand settling on Brian’s thigh. Brian’s flinches at the contact, and then curses at himself for it. Zack just squeezes him gently, affectionately, and says, “And I don’t know how you felt about it, and maybe this is very cheesy and cliché. But to me, sex with you wasn’t just ‘sex’. It was my chance to be close to you. To be _that_ close to you, and make you feel good, and just… _Be._ With you. And I miss that.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Brian manages.  
  
“I’m not looking for more apologies, I just… I want you to understand,” Zack says. “And I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to. Or anything you’re uncomfortable with. I’m not saying that. But God, if you would just let me hold you every once in a while… You don’t even let me hold you at night anymore before we go to sleep.”  
  
And no, Brian supposes he doesn’t. But Zack thinks he needs to understand? No, _Zack_ is the one who needs to understand. “Do you know what I dreamt about that night?” Brian asks him, continuing once Zack hums questioningly. “I dreamt that I was on my corner downtown. I don’t know how or why, but there I was, a painted up whore. And you came up the street and fucked me right there on the sidewalk in public, in front of God and country. And the worst part about the whole thing was that it was fucking _hot_ … So you can hopefully understand why I was a little fucking disturbed when I woke up, and why I didn’t want to just roll over and make sweet love to you.”  
  
Zack swallows audibly, squirming a bit in his seat. “It was a fantasy, babe, no—not even, it was a dream,” he says after a beat. “It doesn’t mean anything, and you had no control…”  
  
“Oh, but it does mean this,” Brian tells him. “It means that somewhere deep inside, in that fucked-up part of my brain that is so beyond help, I apparently want you to fuck me open in the middle of the sidewalk!”  
  
Zack squirms again in his seat. The man’s either agitated on aroused, Brian can’t decide, maybe both. Brian wonders what exactly he’s thinking—probably trying to figure out where best to kick Brian out of the car onto the curb. But then Zack says, “You know, I’ve fantasized about giving you a facial.”  
  
“Wh-What?!” Brian starts, partly because that’s the last thing Brian was expecting to hear. And partly because he knows Zack isn’t talking about a facial with aromatherapy soaps and a revitalizing mask…  
  
“Not that I would ever, or even really want to,“ Zack says, glancing over from the driver’s seat again. “And I feel guilty for thinking about it sometimes, because it’s kinda demeaning. And I’d never actually want to do something like that do you. But God, it’s still so hot to think of you on your knees like that—and then kissing and licking your face clean after…”  
  
 _You and your fucking cum fetish…_ is all Brian can think idly as Zack makes the turn off the road and into their apartment complex. He feels warm, his heart beating fast, and he’s strangely jittery all of a sudden. He runs a hand through his hair, and says the first thing that comes to mind to break the silence that has fallen between them. “Would you let me come on your face, too?”  
  
Zack’s foot slips as he puts on the brake, making the car lurch uncomfortably as they go to park in front of their simplex. “Uhm,” Zack answers at first, then laughs high-pitched and surprised, hand squeezing where it’s still laid across Brian’s thigh. “Yeah, yeah. Fair’s fair, and all.”  
  
Brian laughs in reply, surprised and also nervous, and says, “I’m such a fucking pervert, oh my fucking God. I need serious help…”  
  
“Stop,” Zack shushes him, throwing the car in park and sitting back in his seat. “You’re pretty vanilla, you know. I don’t know why you feel guilty for having a fantasy or dream occasionally. Hell, I don’t know why you feel guilty _at all_.”  
  
Brian’s quiet, not knowing what to say. Is he vanilla? He really doesn’t know, he hasn’t thought about it much. Is he a disappointment? Is he not exciting enough? Fuck… “I’m vanilla?” he asks eventually, frowning down at the console. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Stop apologizing for everything!” Zack grates out, exasperated. “I wasn’t complaining. _Trust me_ , I wasn’t complaining. You know what you like, and I can fuck you missionary style all night long, babe, I know you like it like that. Or let you ride my cock, let you grind yourself down on me like you like to do…”  
  
 _What is going on?_ Brian thinks clearly as Zack pets his thigh, his touch gentle and affectionate. _How is this fight turning into dirty talk in the car outside of our apartment?_  
  
“I just wanna do what you like to do,” Zack says, all but cooing at him. “I get turned on when you’re enjoying yourself, when I make you feel good. God, babe, do you even know what you do to me?”  
  
Brian swallows heavily. He’s getting turned on, all of the sexual tension building up in the car between them, Zack’s hand still petting at his thigh. “Za-ack,” he breathes out shakily, unsure what he wants, needs, or even means.  
  
Zack shushes him, then grabs the front of his t-shirt to pull him close, pressing their lips together. Brian opens up for him instinctively, all but melting, letting Zack lick into his mouth. Then the hand on Brian’s thigh slides up between his legs beginning to rub him through his jeans, and Brian lets out a surprised little whine into their kiss. He starts to get hard as soon as Zack’s hand is on him, and Zack hums into their kiss, pleased.  
  
“That’s it. You getting hard for me?” Zack says, pulling back from their kiss and breathing against Brian’s lips. “Yeah, you’re so good, so sexy babe…”  
  
And it’s so much like what Zack had said to him in that dream—praising him for being ‘so good’—and all Brian can do is breathe out Zack’s name again, his stomach flip-flopping wildly. Zack drags him back into a kiss, wet and passionate, and Brian feels like he drowning in him.  
  
“Come on,” Zack says, pulling away again eventually. The man looks wrecked already, his breath coming heavy and his lips kiss-swollen. “Inside. Let’s go inside.”  
  
Brian nods, swallowing heavily. He opens his car door and stands on shaky legs, this whole situation seeming surreal. Thankfully their apartment is one of the last simplexes in the complex, tucked into the back and off the main access. There’s no one nearby to see him stumbling out of the car and up to the front door with a tent in the front of his pants.  
  
He waits while Zack unlocks the front door and lets them in, but then Zack is on him again as soon as the door shuts behind them, kissing him deep and thorough. Zack presses him up against the wall next to the door, their bodies flush, and Brian can feel the other man’s clothed erection pressing against his own. It makes him moan, trying to keep the sound stifled, but Zack echoes the noise, encouraging.  
  
Then Ichabod is at their feet, barking indignantly and scratching at Brian’s sneakers. It makes Brian pull away, trying to catch his breath, and he manages to point out, “The dog. Need to let him out.”  
  
“Fuck it,” Zack answers, dragging Brian back in. He kisses him once, long and slow, before adding, “Let him shit on the floor, I don’t care. I’ll clean it up later.”  
  
Brian can’t help but laugh, high-pitched and a little hysterical, but then he’s being pulled back into a kiss, effectively silencing him. And Brian is subconsciously aware where this is going—he was aware from the beginning, really, somewhere between all of the teasing sexy talk and that first passionate kiss in the car. Still, as Zack pulls them away from the wall and starts walking them back toward the bedroom, the reality of it all hits him.  
  
“Let me make love to you,” Zack breathes into their kiss as they stumble through the bedroom door, and Brian holds onto him shakily, reaching back in to kiss, hoping that is enough of an answer. Still, Zack pulls away again as the backs of Brian’s knees hit the edge of the bed, his green eyes searching, and Brian takes a deep breath, nodding.  
  
“Yeah,” he answers. “Yeah, love you. Want you.” _I don’t want you to ever think I don’t…_  
  
“Mmm… Love you, too, babe. And I’m so sorry for earlier. So sorry,” Zack says, taking hold of Brian’s shirt by the hem and pulling it over his head. Then he moves his hands down, pops the button on Brian’s jeans, undoes the zipper, and pulls them down along with Brian’s underwear. Brian kicks his sneakers off and steps out of his jeans, then he’s left naked, only a plain silver chain looped around his neck. So he sits down on the edge of the bed, looking up at Zack, feeling exposed.  
  
Zack smiles down at him affectionately, ridding himself of his own clothes then climbing into the bed alongside Brian. He meets Brian’s lips for a kiss before sitting down in the middle of the bed and pulling Brian into his lap.  
  
“I wanna do this right,” Zack says, thumbs circling around Brian’s hipbones. “Like in that booklet. Nice and slow and easy, okay?”  
  
Brian nods, because yeah, that sounds better, easier. Zack runs his hands up and down Brian’s sides, his touch gentle, almost tickling, and Brian just _breathes._  
  
“You stay on top like this?” Zack asks, leaning forward to pepper kisses along Brian’s jawline. “Ride me, yeah? That sound good, babe? That okay?”  
  
Brian feels his cock twitch between them at Zack’s words, at the thought and mental image of having the other man inside him, and he tries to stifle his moan, wrapping his arms around Zack’s shoulders and burying his face into the side of Zack’s neck. Zack murmurs praise to him, how hot he is and how good he’s being, which only proves to fuel the fire inside of Brian further.  
  
And Zack is kissing him everywhere, his lip sliding along Brian’s cheek and jaw, then down to his throat. Brian tilts his head back to give him better access, his arms still wrapped securely around Zack’s shoulders. He can feel Zack’s cock rubbing up against his own cock and balls, Zack’s hips trapped between his thighs, Zack’s warm breath and wet mouth sliding down from his throat to kiss along his collarbone…  
  
Brian finds himself moaning quietly, grinding his hips down, looking for friction. Zack slides a hand down Brian’s stomach, fingers playing over his cock before reaching down to cup his balls. Then those fingers are sliding back to tease over his entrance, circling around and around and until Brian’s is canting his hips forward on impulse.  
  
Zack hums approvingly, pulling Brian up by the hips until Brian’s forced to lie back on the mattress, rearranging his legs appropriately. He stretches, staring up at the ceiling, his toes touching the headboard, while Zack reaches to the nightstand for the lube. It’s oddly quiet in the room now, Zack having fallen silent, only the sounds of their heavy breathing clear. Afternoon sunlight is coming through the window, dimmed by the curtains and blinds, casting a bronzed hue across the bedsheets.  
  
Brian picks his head up, looks down to where Zack is slicking up his fingers, and his hearts pounds uncontrollably. He’s suddenly terrified, and he wants to say something to break the silence that has fallen. So he opens his mouth, turning his eyes back to stare at the ceiling, and apologizes, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“What, babe?” Zack asks, and a slick fingers is pressed against his hole, beginning to make gentle circles again. Brian tenses, muscles spasming—while Zack asks, “Why are you sorry?”  
  
And Brian curses, because he doesn’t fucking know—except now, as Zack begins to wiggle one slick finger inside, he finds himself apologizing again. This time, though, because he seems to have lost control of his body, and he’s clenching around Zack’s finger to the point of absurdity. He knows how to have sex, damn it, he just needs to force himself to…  
  
“Relax, babe, it’s okay,” Zack coos at him, his right hand moving to smooth over Brian’s belly, the left still busy between Brian’s legs. “Stop apologizing. Just relax. You’re okay.”  
  
 _I’m scared,_ Brian thinks inanely, and almost says it aloud. Almost. But he catches himself, and instead says, “Keep talking to me, please? Just keep talking.”  
  
“I’m right here, babe,” Zack says, voice pitched low and husky, slowly fucking Brian on his one finger. “It’s me. I love you so much. And I wanna make you feel good, want you to come undone for me—just let go. It’s me, I’m not going to hurt you. Never hurt you.”  
  
 _I fucking know you’re not going to hurt me,_ Brian thinks clearly, exasperated with himself. _But I’m fucking scared, and I can’t relax, and I feel so fucking stupid and guilty and wrecked, and Goddamnit, I hate myself…_  
  
“Shhh…” Zack murmurs, curling his finger inside. “Don’t say that—I love you. Don’t be scared, babe, I gotcha. I promise.”  
  
“Wait, did I say that—?“ Brian starts, but is cut off as Zack goes to wiggle a second finger in alongside the first. He huffs out a breath in unease, throwing a leg over one of Zack’s shoulders to try to make himself more comfortable. Damnit, why can’t he just relax?  
  
“Shh, babe, you’re clenching so tight. Relax, it’s okay,” Zack murmurs, and fuck, Brian wishes it was just that easy. He takes a breath, trying to will his body to cooperate, while Zack starts up again. “You know something, babe? Remember the first time we were ever together—I dunno, maybe you don’t. I took you back to that cheap ass motel…”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian mumbles in reply, wondering where the hell Zack is going with this. Though the sound of his voice is calming, and Brian had asked him to keep talking, so he isn’t going to complain.  
  
“You took your clothes off in the middle of the bed, all seductive-like—first time I saw you naked. And fuck, you’re hot, so fucking hot, sitting there on the bed looking up at me with those pretty brown eyes. I remember thinking—‘How has someone not taken this son of a bitch home?’”  
  
That makes Brian laugh just because, well, _Zack_ took him home in the end. Ironic. He feels Zack’s fingers sink in up to the knuckle then, abruptly cutting off that laughter. He huffs out another breath, partially from discomfort and partially from pleasure. The tips of Zack’s fingers are _right there_ , all he’d have to do is press and massage.  
  
“Wouldn’t let me kiss you—not real kissing, at least—and let me tell you, I wanted to,” Zack continues to prattle on. “Those pretty eyes and that sweet smile just had me wanting your lips, but you let me kiss all over your face otherwise. And all over your chest and belly. And then you turned over on your hands and knees and fucking spread yourself for me—sexiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life…”  
  
Zack starts scissoring his fingers, stretching him slowly, and it’s uncomfortable, yes. But having Zack’s voice there, hearing Zack’s account of that first time, is not just making things easier. It’s making Brian remember that time, making him remember being spread open on the motel bed, the first time Zack had ever fucked him. And God, it’s doing insane things to him.  
  
“Until I got closer, started fingering you open, and realized you had been torn before, been abused. And I just thought—‘Who would do this to such a gorgeous fucking creature?’ But I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised, all in all. But I knew, right then, I was gonna make you come undone for me. I wasn’t gonna be happy unless you were moaning and screaming and begging…”  
  
Brian groans, partly at his words and partly as he rubs over that sweet spot inside. Zack chuckles at him, then hums encouragingly.  
  
“You never quite screamed and begged—not that night, anyway. But you did moan real pretty, and came so nice. Came on my cock, all over my hand and the bed. So fucking hot. And that was plenty enough to make me happy. Plenty.”  
  
“Za-ack,” Brian whines, overwhelmed. Zack coos softly at him in reply, before slowly pulling his fingers out, then pulling on Brian by his forearms until Brian sits up.  
  
“Come on, you ready to sit on my cock?” Zack asks, which only makes Brian whine again, unintelligible this time. He repositions himself so that he’s on his knees astraddle Zack’s lap, wrapping his arms around Zack’s shoulders to ground himself, and buries his face into the curve of Zack’s neck. He can feel Zack moving underneath him, can hear him pop the top on the lube again, can hear the wet sound of him slicking himself up.  
  
And he’s terrified—Brian can feel himself trembling, his knees almost refusing to hold him up, his nails digging into Zack’s back where he’s holding on so tightly. But at the same time he’s turned on, he wants this, and somehow against all logic, he still has a fucking erection. So he spreads his legs a little further, cants his hips as Zack lines himself up, and _tries so hard._  
  
He can’t help but let out a little huff of distress as Zack starts to guide his hips down, his cock slowly sliding inside, because it is… not painful, no. Brian has had painful sex before, and this is far from that. But it’s not comfortable, either. He’s still too tense, too nervous, too scared. Zack tries to kiss along his cheek, but Brian jerks away, ducking his head down and closing his eyes, just trying to _breathe…_  
  
He hears Zack speaking to him, but doesn’t quite process it. He’s too busy trying to force himself to relax, and force himself the rest of the way down onto Zack until he’s fully seated. He’s stuck in his own head, a mantra playing on repeat in his own mind: ‘Brian, you’re ridiculous—why are you doing this?—you sick, stupid, shameful son of a bitch.’  
  
But then Zack has his face gripped in both of his hands, pulling his head up until Brian meets Zack’s concerned gaze. “Brian, answer me,” he says. “Am I hurting you? Stop if it hurts, don’t…”  
  
“No, doesn’t hurt,” Brian lies. Zack eyes him dubiously, letting his hands drift down from Brian’s face over his shoulders, then down his chest. Brian cants his hips a bit, trying to rock further down onto Zack’s cock, and Zack lets out a sinful groan.  
  
“I think you’re lying. _Goddamnit,_ you’re tight,” Zack manages, voice raw, his hands moving back down to settle on Brian’s hips. And that voice in the back of Brian’s mind pipes up, _As opposed to the usual: loose well-fucked whore._ Zack continues, “You’re so tense, babe. Try to relax. Just try to relax. For me. I don’t want you hurt.”  
  
Brian takes a breath, and nods. He lets Zack start to move his hips in a gentle, slow rocking motion, and then closes his eyes as Zack starts to press wet, open mouthed kisses to his neck and collarbone. He tries to focus on the feeling—the _good_ feelings—of Zack’s warm breath and tongue against his skin, the way their bodies are pressed so close, the way Zack’s cock inside of him is starting to feel less like an uncomfortable intrusion and more like what he’s used to: That perfect fullness that Brian fucking _craves_.  
  
He’s not quite sure how or when, but he finds himself fully seated eventually, Zack’s balls pressed up against his ass. His legs are bent uncomfortably underneath himself now, so he awkwardly rearranges himself to curl his legs around Zack’s torso, apologizing as he does so. Zack just shushes him, hiking one of Brian’s legs up to hook his knee over his elbow. And yeah, that angle is better, so better…  
  
Zack continues to guide his hips in that slow rocking motion, which is good, what Brian wants right then. He speaks up after a moment, murmurs, “Fuck, you’re still so tight. You’re so good, babe. So good.” And Brian can tell that Zack is wrecked. The man is fighting not to thrust up into him and to just guide Brian’s hips instead, though loses the battle occasionally. Brian will feel his hips snap up into him from time to time, his cock pressing even deeper into him, and it’s those moments that tear deep moans from both their throats. Zack continues, “You fuck yourself down on me, babe, find your sweet spot. I want this to last, but I’m already close.”  
  
 _No wonder you are. How long has it been?_ Brian thinks. Then, _You’ve already found my prostate, you always seem to do that easy. Cliché, maybe, but it’s like we fit or something. I just don’t want to give into this. I feel so…_  
  
“Give in, baby. I wanna make you feel good,” Zack tells him, starting to guide Brian’s hips down with a little more force. “That’s all I want. _Nothing_ does it for me more.”  
  
 _Oh God, we’ve escalated from ‘babe’ to ‘baby’_ , Brian thinks. But really, “Am I just rambling shit out loud?”  
  
“S’okay. You just keep talking. That’s okay,” Zack tells him. He lets go of Brian’s hip then, letting right hand drift up Brian’s back while his left roams over Brian’s thigh. It leaves Brian free to move himself, so he takes a firmer hold of Zack’s shoulders and starts to legitimately fuck himself down onto Zack’s cock.  
  
It feels better than Brian was expecting—he’s more relaxed now, and the pressure against that spot inside of him has his back arching and his insides fluttering. Zack curses spectacularly, his fingers digging into Brian’s thigh. And fuck, Brian doesn’t want to admit it, but he wants more. He feels so full and stretched open—it seems like he can feel Zack all the way up in his belly, though that’s probably just his crazy talking at this point—and he _loves_ that feeling. Almost more than he loves the actual prostate stimulation. He finds himself whining and moaning, that negative voice inside of him temporarily silenced, and he begs, “Please, Zack, _please…_ More, want more. Deeper, more, _please…_ ”  
  
“Fuck, baby,” Zack moans, holding him tighter. Their bodies are almost flush, chest to chest, and Brian feels Zack suddenly bite down near is collarbone, where the man’s face is buried in the curve of his neck. He flinches on impulse, though the small spike of pain only intensifies the pleasure. He just continues to moan unabashedly as Zack pulls back, his hips moving with Brian’s now, to begin licking and sucking at the mark. And he’s going to have a lovebite come morning… again. This only proves to turn him on further.  
  
“Zack!” he begs again, not quite knowing exactly what he wants. Just more, something more. “Please, please, _please!_ ”  
  
The second string of begging seems to break him. Zack unhooks Brian’s knee from his arm, letting his leg fall back to the bed, and instead grabs an asscheek in each hand, lifting and spreading him. Brian grabs on tight, securing his arms around Zack’s shoulders one last time as the man braces his feet on the mattress and starts thrusting up into him deep and hard and fast.  
  
And Brian forgets how strong the man is sometimes—he can look like a fluffy little teddy bear, but his work often requires him to bodily pick up patients if unconscious, or to restrain uncooperative patients. He’s more than capable of holding Brian up like he’s doing, and fucking up into him so hard that Brian would be thrown off of him if he wasn’t clutching him so tightly. And God it’s good, it’s _so good_ … Brian finds himself crying out with each thrust, wild and loud, and thank God they are in a simplex or else the neighbors would be hearing every word. “Zaaack! Fuuck! Yeees! Soo! Good! Soo! Good! Right! There! Right! There! Like! That! Right! There! Yeees! Like! That! _Fuck_! Yes!”  
  
“Shit, Brian,” Zack groans out, wrecked, only thrusting a few more times before burying himself to the hilt with a loud grunt. And Brian can feel him coming—or at least he thinks he can, maybe it’s the crazy in his imagination, how sensitive he feels and how worked up he is—but he can feel the man’s cock pulsing inside of him, can feel the wetness of his cum against his insides, and _fucking hell!_ He grinds his hips down still, whining desperately, his toes curling, his cock so, so hard. Then Zack lets out this spent, exhausted, gratified sort of noise, and Brian is _done_.  
  
He seems to crest for ages, maybe because he’s so worked up, maybe because no one is touching his cock. He can hear himself crying out, his body trembling and his muscles spasming, but it all seems far away, as though it’s not really him. He clutches Zack tightly, fingernails digging into his back, subconsciously afraid he’ll float away if he doesn’t.  
  
Then Zack’s hand is fumbling for his cock, fingers wrapping around him clumsily before he starts to jerk him quick, and it’s so intense, like he’s cresting on that wave all over again before he crashes down. He can feel his cock jerking in Zack’s hand, the satisfying feeling of release, and he cries out again, more, louder, his head thrown back and his throat exposed. He can hear Zack praising him, the man’s lips drifting over his throat, but like before it all seems like background noise.  
  
He feels boneless after as he starts to come down, body shivering through the aftershocks. He’s wobbly, drifting, and he’s vaguely aware that he’s going to collapse, either onto Zack’s chest or off to one side of him onto the bed. Luckily Zack makes the choice for him, pulling out of him them gently lying him down on the bed next to him. Brian ends up on his side, his eyes closed, trying to catch his breath.  
  
 _That was insane_ , Brian thinks clearly, body still trembling. _What just happened? Did we just have sex? After months of not having sex? After months of me being a total jackass? A stupid son of a bitch with too many issues to count? Did that really just happen?  
  
I’m such a slut. I was fucking screaming and begging for his cock in my ass. Except that was Zack, and _God _, I am so in love with him. So in love with him it actually hurts. I don’t know what to do, I don’t know how to feel. Except I feel really good right now. Really, really good. Maybe I’m a sick son of a bitch, but at least Zack seems to understand…_  
  
“Brian? Brian!”  
  
Brian looks up, surprised, and finds Zack hovering over him looking incredibly concerned. Has the man been trying to talk to him? Shit, Brian feels kind of out of it right now. He runs a hand over his face, trying to gather himself back together while Zack continues talking.  
  
“Brian? Baby, are you okay? Are you listening to me?” Zack asks, and Brian tries to answer, he really does. It comes out as a quiet moan, though, and he swallows, cursing himself as Zack continues. “God, baby, I’m so sorry! I got carried away… I’m so, so sorry! Here, let me get you something. Get you some water—a towel…”  
  
Zack starts to pull away and get out of the bed, and Brian whines, throwing a hand out to catch him by the wrist, because _no_ , he doesn’t want him to leave. “I’m okay,” he manages to groan out, meeting Zack’s green eyes. Zack looks downright panicked, so Brian gives him a weak smile and pulls on his wrist. “No, better than okay. Just—gotta give me a minute. Please. Gotta catch my breath.”  
  
Zack sighs, looking relieved, and lies back down in the bed next to Brian. “Okay,” he murmurs quietly, settling in close, so close that if Brian leans forward just a fraction of an inch, they will bump noses. And Brian is beginning to feel the post-coital rush of emotion and affection, so he lets his head fall forward until their noses touch, and closes his eyes. Zack’s breath is warm against his face, and the man is silent for a few moments, apparently giving him the time Brian had asked for, before he speaks up. “Brian, babe, I can’t even… I’d say that was amazing, but that doesn’t quite do that justice.”  
  
“Mmm,” Brian mumbles quietly, a grin stretching across his face despite himself. He thinks it goes unsaid that he feels the same way, but still…  
  
“Was it good for you?” Zack murmurs, pulling away to peer at Brian with worried, green eyes.  
  
“Zack, I was screaming like a fucking cockslut,” Brian answers. “I’m sorry, but what do you think?”  
  
“Do not ever apologize to me for being vocal,” Zack tells him seriously. “If you’re enjoying yourself and want to scream your fucking head off, then go for it.”  
  
Brian chuckles in reply, closing his eyes again. He’s drenched in sweat, and he can feel the cum dripping out of his ass, beginning to slide down his thigh. He needs to get up and clean himself up, just get in the shower for a moment, but he is exhausted, so much so that he doesn’t care. Brian just wants to sleep, and it’s only Zack’s semen—it can wait.  
  
“You never answered me,” Zack says quietly, forcing Brian to focus again.  
  
Brian rolls his eyes, answers, “Yes, Zack, it was good for me, too. Really, really good. I repeat, I was fucking screaming. Thank God we don’t have close neighbors…” He hears Zack chuckle in reply as he closes his eyes again. He wants to sleep so badly, but it suddenly occurs to him, “Shit, I’m making a wet spot on the bed. And I’m on your side.”  
  
“S’okay. Don’t worry about it. I can put a towel down until we get a chance to wash the sheets,” Zack says idly. He lays a hand on Brian’s side, gently rubbing over his flank. “Do you want to get up now? Clean up and put a towel down now?”  
  
Brian groans. “Do you want me to?” he asks.  
  
“That wasn’t my question,” Zack says. “Do _you_ want to?”  
  
Brian sighs, shaking his head. “I’m so exhausted, I’m sorry. I just want to sleep.”  
  
“Stop apologizing for everything,” Zack chastises, beginning to roll up out of the bed. “Let me just run a washcloth over your ass, though. You’ll sleep better if you’re not dirty down there…”  
  
Brian chuckles in reply, his eyes closed, and mumbles something at him. Something that is supposed to be a lighthearted joke about the cleanliness of his backside, but he’s not really sure what actually comes out of his mouth. He’s already beginning to drift, his body boneless and humming pleasantly, negative thoughts gone from his head at least for the moment.  
  
He’s already asleep by the time Zack makes it back.


	12. Part 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~And that is exactly it. That’s where he is right now. “I think that’s what it is,” Brian says quietly. “I’m just overwhelmed. And I don’t know what to do…”~

Brian wakes up slow, still drowsy, like coming out of a fog. He blinks sleepily, rubbing at his eyes, unsure what is happening or where he is. His eyes eventually focus in front of him to land on the bedsheets, where Ichabod is curled up next to Brian’s pillow, asleep. And it’s then he remembers—remembers earlier, making love with Zack, how passionate and perfect it all was—because he’d forgotten all about the poor dog.  
  
“Ichy…” he croons, reaching over to run a hand over the pup’s back. The dog picks his head up and wags his tail at the attention, but doesn’t move to jump down off the bed. Strange… “I’m sorry, Ichy. I fell asleep—here. I’ll get up now and…”  
  
“I already let him out and fed him dinner,” Zack speaks up from the other side of the bedroom. Brian rolls over to find the man pulling a pair of sweats on, his hair wet, obviously just out of the shower. “He left me a nice present in the living room. Otherwise, no harm, no foul,” Zack adds, wandering over to the bed to press a gentle kiss to Brian’s forehead. Then, “Did I wake you? I was trying to be quiet. You were sleeping so peacefully…”  
  
“Mmm… Just woke up,” Brian answers, closing his eyes again, still tired. “What time is it?”  
  
Zack chuckles, and answers, “About 9:30…”  
  
“In the morning?!” Brian snaps, because for fuck’s sake! It had been mid-afternoon when they came home from the coffee-shop, how long did he sleep? But as he’s getting his wits about himself, he’s beginning to realize it’s dark outside, and the ‘9:30’ on their alarm clock is definitely a ‘PM’. Apparently he’d just taken a nap—a long nap, but still…  
  
Zack chuckles at him and answers, “No, at night. I laid down and fell asleep too, after I took Ichy out. Woke up a little while ago, and I’m _starving_. We kinda missed dinner, ha!”  
  
Brian laughs, realizes, “I’m hungry, too.”  
  
“I ordered Thai from the place down the road. I got you your usual. Hope that’s alright,” Zack says, moving to grab a t-shirt out of the closet. “Just gotta go pick it up. I’ll be back real quick.”  
  
“Mmm, yummy,” Brian answers tiredly, and Zack grins at him, pulling the t-shirt on as he wanders back over to the bed.  
  
“Be right back,” Zack repeats, leaning down to kiss Brian on the forehead again. The man is obviously still feeling very loving and affectionate after what they just shared, which is okay, Brian thinks. He’s feeling so close to Zack at that moment, the emotion so strong he doesn’t quite know what to do with it.  
  
In fact, once Zack leaves and Brian stumbles up out of bed, he finds himself standing in the shower with tears silently rolling down his cheeks. And he doesn’t know why—he’s not sad, he’s not upset, and he only feels a tiny bit guilty, more exasperated with himself for screaming like a banshee. But even that is not enough to make him cry, and he doesn’t know what is wrong.  
  
Though he wipes the tears away and finishes washing himself, not bothering with his hair, just making sure to wash the sweat and semen away. He steps out of the shower with his emotions at least temporarily under control, feeling clean and refreshed and badly in need of a cigarette. So he throws a pair of boxers and one of Zack’s favorite t-shirts on, grabs up his Marlboro’s and lighter, and heads outside.  
  
He’s only just taken his first drag when Zack’s hybrid pulls in, and he goes for his second as Zack steps out of the car with the bag of take-out. The man shoots him a disapproving look when he sees him smoking, and Brian lets a breath out, the smoke drifting away, and murmurs, “I’m sorry.”  
  
Zack’s expression softens at his words, and he answers, “S’okay. Let’s just handle one thing at a time, yeah?” Then, adding as he lets himself inside the apartment, “You always had to have a smoke after sex, if I remember correctly. I shouldn’t have been surprised.”  
  
Brian chuckles, nodding—that probably was why he was craving a cigarette so badly. He finishes, then head back inside, finds Zack in the kitchen filling a paper plate with his food. Brian hurries over, hungry, and gets himself a plate as well.  
  
They end up on the couch, sitting close together while eating. They’re _so_ close, Brian realizes, only taking up one seat on the couch, their thighs and hips and shoulders touching. And Brian really doesn’t want to move away, actually finds himself pressing closer. Zack presses back, the man’s eyes on the television screen, though Brian can tell he’s not actually watching it. It’s just old sitcom reruns that they’ve seen a thousand times before.  
  
“You okay?” Zack asks eventually, mostly finished with his food. Brian glances over at him, and finds that he honestly doesn’t know how to answer that.  
  
 _I feel so… So... I don’t even know. There’s a lovebite on my neck where you’ve marked me, reminding me that I am yours. That I_ belong _. That you care enough to want to mark me… And I’m not sore, no, but I can feel it. I can feel where you’ve been, where we’ve been together, so intimate. Where you’ve been_ inside _of me. And I realize that it wasn’t the first time, far fucking from it, but the fact that I have allowed you_ that _close, after everything…_  
  
“Babe?” Zack presses, putting his plate aside.  
  
And Brian’s going to have to give him an answer, lest the man assume the worst. So he blurts out, staring down at his plate of food, “I just got in the shower earlier and started crying—I dunno…”  
  
“Oh God, Brian,” Zack says, sounding devastated, and Brian realizes that that was not the best thing to have said. Shit…  
  
“No, I didn’t mean—I mean, I really dunno!” he says, exasperated with himself. “I just got in the shower and started, you know. But I feel okay, no, good. I feel good. It’s like, I was actually able to be with you—so hopefully I’ll be able to be with you again…”  
  
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there,” Zack interrupts, reaching over to lay a hand on Brian’s thigh. “Okay?”  
  
Brian doesn’t answer, just continues. “…and actually be a capable lover for you again.”  
  
“And ‘fucking’ is not the definition of ‘capable lover’,” Zack butts in once again. Brian nods, though doesn’t quite agree.  
  
“But I was still crying. I dunno why.”  
  
Zack gives him a soft, sad little smile, and says, “You know, it’s okay to be emotional sometimes. Like after sex—especially sex like that. A lot of people are.”  
  
“You weren’t,” Brian says stubbornly.  
  
“Babe, you sorta passed out right after,” Zack says. “You don’t know what I was or what I wasn’t.”  
  
“Oh,” Brian says, because the man is right after all. “I—I’m sorry. I was just so tired, I…”  
  
“Don’t apologize. I know you were tired,” Zack says, gently taking Brian’s empty plate from him and putting it aside. “You don’t have to be sorry for falling asleep. But still… You don’t know whether I was or wasn’t an emotional wreck, so don’t assume things.”  
  
It’s the words he uses—actually specifies ‘emotional wreck’—that gives Brian pause. He folds his hands together in his lap, looking down at his bare feet, and asks, “Were you?”  
  
Zack leans over against him, resting his head against his shoulder, and Brian can smell the spicy hint of curry as the man breathes against him. “Yes, babe, I was,” he says, quietly, laying a hand on Brian’s stomach. “I’ve spent the last few weeks thinking you didn’t want me around anymore—that I wasn’t important to you anymore and you didn’t care about me. And then we just—you just—“ He pauses, letting his hand rub over Brian’s stomach. “I could tell how nervous you were, really I could, but you were still being so trusting. And then you finally did relax for me, and _damn_ , babe, you were making the sweetest noises. Like I said, don’t you _ever_ apologize for being vocal—it makes me feel so good, makes me feel like I’m rocking your fucking world…”  
  
Brian closes his eyes with a small smile, just listening, enjoying the feel Zack’s hand rubbing overtop his belly. Hearing Zack say these things, they’re making him _feel_ all over again, so much so his chest is aching. He tips his head to the side a bit, just until he can feel the warmth of the man’s breath against his cheek. He knows they’re close enough to kiss, and wonders if Zack will close the distance to do so.  
  
“So yeah,” Zack continues. “This morning when I woke up, I thought we were on our last legs—and then we ended up making love. And like _that_. I was a little overwhelmed, to say the least.”  
  
And that is exactly it. That’s where he is right now. “I think that’s what it is,” Brian says quietly. “I’m just overwhelmed. And I don’t know what to do…”  
  
“You don’t have to _do_ anything. Just relax,” Zack tells him gently, then leans forward and kisses him like Brian has been waiting for him to do. The man chuckles as he pulls back, and murmurs, “You taste spicy. Like dinner.”  
  
Brian laughs in turn, answers, “You do, too.”  
  
They kiss again, soft and slow, before Zack pulls away. “We should think about getting to bed,” Zack says. “It’s getting late, and we gotta leave here tomorrow by eleven if we wanna get to my parents’ on time.”  
  
“Do we really want to get there on time?” Brian asks tiredly, earning himself a laugh.  
  
“Think of it this way,” Zack says. “The sooner we get there, the sooner it will be over.”  
  
“How about,” Brian tries. “How about I develop a sudden illness in the morning and can’t go?”  
  
“You better not,” Zack scolds, but it holds no heat. Then, softer, “I know you don’t want to go—but thank you for going. For me.”  
  
Brian sighs quietly, picking up Zack’s hand on his stomach and threading their fingers together. _Anything for you,_ he thinks clearly. Then, “I love you. Please don’t ever think I don’t.”  
  
“I love you, too,” Zack answers, squeezing Brian’s hand. Then, “Come on, let’s go to bed.”  
  
~*~  
  
“Are you sure I look alright?” Brian asks the next morning, staring at himself in the bathroom mirror. He’s freshly showered, done his hair, and dressed in a pair of new jeans and a button-down. He really hopes it’s good enough—he wants to make a good impression. An ‘I’m a decent person’ impression. Then maybe Zack’s parents will forget about the prostitute thing for a while.  
  
“I already told you,” Zack says him. He’s been in the bedroom packing them a small overnight bag to take, but he wanders back into the bedroom to look Brian over for the third time. “You look great,” he says, taking hold of Brian’s shirt collar and straightening it out. And it’s as Zack’s pulling on his shirt that Brian sees it…  
  
“Shit…” he says, swatting Zack’s hands away. “You can see the hickey on my neck.”  
  
“No you can’t,” Zack says, smoothing the shirt back down. “It was just because I pulled the collar aside for a second. See? You can’t see anything now.”  
  
And well, Brian supposes he’s right. “Are you sure?” he says, fingers idly playing at his neck.  
  
“Yes, I’m sure. Now stop messing with it,” Zack says, grabbing Brian’s arm and pulling him away from the mirror. “Do you really think I’d let you to parade around in front of my parents with a hickey for them to see? No, definitely not… Anyway, come on, we really need to leave. We’re already late.”  
  
So Brian huffs a breath, straightening his shirt out one last time to make sure the collar covers the offending mark, then follows Zack out.  
  
They stop and pick up Brian’s car first, which luckily hasn’t been towed, before piling back into Zack’s black hybrid with the overnight bag and Ichy in tow. It’s about a two and a half hour drive upstate to Zack’s parents’ house—not too long but still long enough for Brian to work himself into a good frenzy over the whole ordeal. Zack keeps the music turned up, though, and Brian cuddles with Ichy in the passenger seat trying to keep his mind off things.  
  
Zack’s family lives in a cookie-cutter two-story house as it turns out, and Matty’s red convertible is already parked outside on the curb as they pull up. Brian’s met Matty a few times already, the man having tagged along with them to a few live shows here and there, and so at least Brian can say he’s somewhat comfortable seeing him again. Somewhat being the key word. Before, he’d had no clue the man knew about his _secret_ …  
  
And it’s as Brian gathers Ichy up in his arms, sliding out of the passenger side and onto the driveway, that the front door opens and Zack’s mother steps out onto the front stoop, Matty at her side. Brian’s stomach flip-flops, and he looks away from them over to where Zack is grabbing their overnight bag from back seat. He cradles Ichy close to his chest and bites his lip, meeting Zack’s eyes when the man glances up at him. ‘Your mom,’ he mouths, and watches Zack’s gaze drift over his shoulder to the front of the house.  
  
“Boys! You made it!” Mrs. Baker exclaims, sounding genuinely excited to see them. Brian sucks in a deep breath, pastes on a pleasant expression, and turns back to face her. Her smile is so like Zack’s, wide and kind, and it makes him feel a little more comfortable. Still he hangs back and lets Zack approach first, watches as Zack hugs his mother then roughhouses with his brother in greeting, before Brian is left standing in front of the stoop, Mrs. Baker eyeing him appraisingly. “Brian,” she says eventually, reaching her arms out for him to hug. “It’s good to finally meet you in person.”  
  
“Yeah. Good to meet you, too,” Brian says, repositioning Ichy in his arms to allow for a hug. He hopes he sounds sincere, and hopes she can’t tell how incredibly tense he is. Matty steps up quickly, saving him from Mrs. Baker’s attention by grabbing his shoulders and swinging him around into a bear-hug. Ichy squawks indignantly at the motion, nipping at Matty’s arm, and the group laughs.  
  
“Alright, alright, enough boys,” Mrs. Baker says, ushering them all inside. “Everything is almost finished cooking, so we’ll have a late-lunch, early-dinner. Sound good? Everyone inside.”  
  
Zack gives Brian an encouraging smile as they step through the front door, and says quietly, “You can just set Ichy down. He’ll be okay, he’s been here before. A long time ago, but he has been here.”  
  
Brian nods and sets Ichy down as instructed, watching as the pup trots off to go exploring. His hands are free then, and he’s suddenly fidgety, unsure what to do. He shoves his hands in his pockets, listening as Matty tells Zack which bedroom they’re staying in, and where to put the overnight bag. He watches as Zack wanders off down the hall leaving him alone with the family, slightly panicked, wondering if it would be at all appropriate to just follow Zack around wherever the man went today.  
  
Brian swallows, and asks to break the silence, “Well, is there anything I can do to help?”  
  
“Oh, not right now, dear,” Mrs. Baker says. “Just sit yourself down and relax, I think my husband has the game on in the family room. The food should be ready in about fifteen or twenty minutes.”  
  
“Oh, well, alright,” Brian says, glancing over at Matty, who shrugs.  
  
“Come on, I don’t wanna help cook,” the younger man says, grabbing Brian by the shoulders once again. “Let’s go before she changes her mind!”  
  
Mrs. Baker laughs as she meanders back toward the kitchen, and Brian allows himself to be led to what he assumes is the family room. And he can hear the heated argument before they even get close…  
  
“…told her—you’ll both not sleep in the same bed under my roof!” An unfamiliar voice, male, gruff.  
  
“That’s ridiculous! What’d you think we’re going to do? Wait, nevermind, don’t answer that…” Zack’s familiar, California drawl.  
  
“It’s not right. Not in a proper household. He can sleep on the couch.”  
  
“No! For fuck’s sake, he’s not going to sleep on the couch! I’m fucking thirty-years-old, Dad, I’m not a teenager. You can’t forbid me from sleeping in the same bed as my partner!  
  
“While you’re under my roof…”  
  
Brian finds himself walking slower and slower, Matty matching his pace as if equally reluctant to walk in on the argument. Still, they eventually both make it to the end where the entryway opens up into the family room. He finds Zack’s father sitting in a large overstuffed armchair, the football game on the bigscreen tv across the room, with Zack leaning down next to him. Both men turn when Brian and Matty approach—Zack schooling his angry expression back into a calm, collected one, while Mr. Baker’s expression only sours further at the sight of Brian. Brian’s stomach sinks.  
  
“Hey,” Zack says, suddenly doing his best to sound pleasant. He straightens up and moves next to Brian, introducing, “Brian, this is my dad. Dad, this is my partner, Brian.”  
  
“It’s nice to meet you,” Brian says, wondering if it’s appropriate to go over and try to shake the man’s hand after the argument he just overheard.  
  
However, Mr. Baker makes up his mind for him—since he only acknowledges him with a shrug of the shoulder and a grunt, Brian thinks a handshake is probably out of the question. He swallows heavily, watching as Zack scowls at his father before sitting down on the unoccupied couch. Brian decides this is a good idea, and collapses down next to him. At least he can pretend to watch the game for a while, that will be totally normal and unassuming.  
  
“Wow,” Matty comments after their awkward encounter, piling in on the couch next to Brian. “Still think this was a good idea?” he questions, peering around Brian to catch Zack’s eye.  
  
“Shut it,” Zack snaps at his brother, then quieter, hissed into Brian’s ear, “If he starts anything, I swear to God… Just tell him to shut the fuck up.”  
  
“What’d you say to him?” Matty asks, laughing, and Brian finds himself drifting as the brothers begin to bicker with each other overtop of him. It’s all too much to process, the new environment, the new people, the arguing—the strange constant awareness that almost 24 hours prior, he and Zack were wrapped up in each other in their bedroom, and now he is sitting the Zack’s parent’s living room…  
  
And Zack’s father is staring at him, Brian can feel it, can feel all the little hairs on his arms standing on end. He tries to look at the television and ignore it at first, but eventually becomes too nervous to avoid it. He meets the man’s eyes, noting idly just how very little Zack takes after his father, and stares blankly back into the man’s cold glare.  
  
“You got something to say?” Mr. Baker asks suddenly, the insult on the end of the question left silent but still audible. _You got something to say, fag?_  
  
 _Yeah,_ Brian thinks as both Zack and Matty fall silent, eyes turning to regard their father. _Why’d that sweet woman in the kitchen marry an asshole like you?_ And maybe in another place, another time, another life, he’d have had the gumption to stand up for himself, and for Zack at that. But right then, he just nervously scratches at the back of his neck and asks, “Did you want me to say something?”  
  
He realizes his mistake a second too late. Not just that his question could be construed as disrespectful, no… But as Mr. Baker’s eyes snap down to his collarbone, Brian realizes his uneasy scratching at his neck has pushed his shirt collar aside. And the lovebite Zack has left on his collarbone is on full display.  
  
Zack apparently notices as well. “Brian,” he says quietly, grabbing Brian’s hand up and pulling it away. Brian quickly repositions his shirt, his eyes trained to the floor.  
  
“Awkward,” Matty comments. Zack shoots him a glare.  
  
“I repeat,” Zack’s father speaks up after a beat of tense silence, his attention directed at Zack. “You’ll _not_ share a bed with him in this house.”  
  
“Dad…!” Zack starts, angry, but is interrupted before he can start arguing.  
  
“Boys!” Zack’s mother, from the kitchen. “Everything is ready! Come sit down!”  
  
Brian’s heart flutters nervously as he stands and follows Matty to the dining room, Zack following just behind them, anger flowing off the man in waves. Mrs. Baker beckons the young men to help her carry the plates to the table while Mr. Baker finds his seat at the head of the table. Then they’re all sitting down, Brian nervously wondering where he’s supposed to go before Zack helpfully sits him between himself and his mother.  
  
“Alright, let’s say blessing,” Mrs. Baker says, extending her hands. Brian’s confused at first, not quite sure what he’s supposed to do, until Zack reaches over and grips Brian’s hand firmly in his own. And Brian watches for a split second as Zack takes Matty’s hand on the other side as well, and yes, he understands… So he reaches over and takes Mrs. Baker’s hand, the woman giving him a kind and encouraging smile that is so like Zack’s.  
  
It’s a straightforward Catholic prayer that Brian doesn’t know, so he stays silent until the ‘amen’ at the end, because he does at least know that part of praying. He hopes this is acceptable and not insulting, but judging from Zack’s pleased little smile as they release hands, he supposes he did alright.  
  
They fill their plates with turkey and stuffing, mashed potatoes and vegetables, and start in on the small talk as they eat. It’s mostly comfortable, if Brian ignores the way Mr. Baker is occasionally giving him the stink-eye. He supposes the man has good reason, though. Who really wants their son sleeping with a prostitute?  
  
Mrs. Baker begins interrogating Matty on when he’s going to find a woman and settle down, causing Zack to start laughing and siding with his mother. “Yeah, bro?” Zack asks, a shit-eating grin on his face that has even Brian laughing. “When you gonna get married?”  
  
“I want to see a grandchild,” Mrs. Baker says. “And since Zack isn’t gonna give me one…”  
  
Brian’s laughter suddenly dies along with Zack’s. “Mom!” Zack says, scandalized.  
  
“Yeah, that’s good. Pick on him,” Matty says, laughing around a mouthful of mashed potatoes. Then adds helpfully, “You know, Mom, they could adopt. Then you’d have a grandbaby. Hound him about that, and leave me…”  
  
And before Matty can even finish, much less Zack get a word in edgewise… “Are you considering adoption?” Mrs. Baker asks excitedly.  
  
Brian thinks he might be sick. He can’t even take care of himself, how is he supposed to take care of a child? Luckily, Zack seems just as flabbergasted, stammering out, “M-Mom! Please! We haven’t even discussed that. Brian’s trying to finish school, and…”  
  
“I’d put money on the fact they haven’t even discussed marriage,” Matty puts in.  
  
Zack rounds on his brother. “The next time I see you and our parents aren’t around, I swear to God…!”  
  
“Boys!” Mr. Baker barks. “Watch your mouth.”  
  
Zack glares, but backs down. Mrs. Bakers prattles on, “And you’d get married before adopting. Understandable. Responsible.”  
  
Zack clears his throat, playing with the food on his plate. There’s a beat of awkward silence before he comments, “I wouldn’t think you’d approve of such a thing.”  
  
Mr. Baker coughs rather pointedly, and Brian watches as Mrs. Baker’s eyes slide over to him guardedly before she shrugs a shoulder, going back to her plate. And Brian’s beginning to realize that Zack’s assumption that his parents don’t approve of his lifestyle and relationship may not exactly be true. It may be more that his father doesn’t approve, and his mother either doesn’t want or is too afraid to go against what Mr. Baker says.  
  
“Well regardless, this is the first time we’ve ever really gotten to talk, Brian,” Mrs. Baker says suddenly, turning her attention to him. “Tell us about yourself.”  
  
And Brian is gripped in sudden terror, the eyes of the whole family on him. But he swallows down his fear the best he can, wondering exactly what he can say. His life seems fairly boring—he goes to work, he goes to school, he watches tv and plays videos games and facebooks. He sees a therapist because he is batshit crazy—but that doesn’t seem like quite appropriate dinner conversation. “Well, I’m going to community college,” he starts, because he supposes this is a good thing to say.  
  
“Yes, Zack’s told me,” Mrs. Baker says, smiling encouragingly. “He said you were going for some sort of medical training?”  
  
“Mmmhmm,” Brian says, nodding. He can do this, he thinks confidently. This is straightforward. “The program is medical information management. It has a lot to do with medical programming in hospitals and doctor’s offices and stuff. I wanted something that would open good job opportunities for me, and did some research. With Zack’s help. I was a little worried. I mean, the first time I tried the college thing it didn’t go so well…” He falters then, realizing he’d just inadvertently brought up _before_. He swallows nervously, eyes flittering to Zack, who is smiling reassuringly and doesn’t seem to realize the slip. So Brian presses on, “But it’s been a lot easier this time. Zack’s been really supportive and helpful. I’ve got a 3.4 GPA right now.”  
  
“I’m very proud of him,” Zack puts in, smiling.  
  
“I’m sure,” Mrs. Baker says. “That’s very impressive.”  
  
“Not really, but…” Brian says self-deprecatingly, trailing off as Zack kicks him under the table. “Thank you.”  
  
There’s a strange, awkward silence then. Before Mr. Baker speaks up, “Do you know what else is impressive?” The tone of the man’s voice alone has Brian’s blood running cold, but then, “The fact that’s he’s whored his way into Zachary’s home.”  
  
There’s an odd, deafening beat of silence at the table until Zack finally breaks it. “Dad!” Zack shouts, outraged. “You…!”  
  
But Brian, he cannot do this. His hands are shaking, and his heart is suddenly beating wildly, and everyone is staring at him… He drops his silverware to the table with a clatter and stands swiftly, his chair scraping against the hardwood floor. “Excuse me,” he says, and flees down the nearest hallway, Mr. Baker’s words echoing in his mind.  
  
 _Whored his way into Zachary’s home. I’ve whored my way into Zack’s home. Because that’s really it—I’ve just slept my way off the streets and into a warm bed. I’ve just basically used him when it comes right down to it…_  
  
The first door he tries is a bedroom, apparently the guest bedroom, but the second door is a bathroom. He slips inside, slams the door behind him, and hangs over the sink for a moment, afraid he’s going to be ill. He’s shaking all over, sweating, and he can hear bits and pieces of an argument through the closed door.  
  
“…wrong with you?...come here to get harassed…not going to listen to this.”  
  
“…sick and unnatural…just with you for your money…sodomizing piece of…”  
  
He can feel himself starting to cry, but he doesn’t want to, he’s cried too much. He shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes, and whines to himself, walking away from the sink over to the toilet. He puts the lid down and sits, covering his face up and trying to hold himself together. He fails miserably.  
  
He doesn’t know how long it’s been, how long he sits on the toilet alone with his head in his hands, rocking quietly back and forth, before there’s a frantic knocking at the bathroom door. “Brian!” Zack calls. “Brian let me in!” But the door isn’t locked, and the next moment Zack is inside the bathroom with him, pulling his hands away from his face and cooing gently at him. “Oh Brian, babe, I’m so sorry. It’s okay, I promise. I promise, it’s okay. You’re okay.”  
  
“Nooo…” Brian whines back, trying to tell him it’s not okay but not quite able. His heart is beating too fast, and his breath is coming too short.  
  
“Shh… Yes, it is okay,” Zack tells him gently, holding his hands. “Everything’s all okay. I love you.”  
  
“Is he alright?” It’s Mrs. Baker’s voice, and close. Brian’s head snaps up, finds her standing just outside the bathroom door, looking in worriedly.  
  
“He was having a panic attack,” Zack says from where he’s kneeling in front of Brian, his tone of voice turning angry again. Brian’s stomach twists up at the change, and he grips Zack’s hands harder. Zack continues, turning toward his mother, “I’m going to kill him. Sitting there saying that shit to me while I’m telling him Brian’s not…not doing well. And him calling me a liar…”  
  
“Zaaack…” Brian cries quietly, the man’s anger only upsetting him.  
  
“Zack, honey, you’re scaring him,” Mrs. Baker points out gently. “We’ll worry about your father later, okay?”  
  
Zack nods, seeming to realize that he is in fact distressing Brian further. “Shh, babe, it’s okay. I’m sorry,” he croons again, reaching up to kiss Brian on the forehead. His lips are soft and comforting, and Brian holds his hands tightly, slightly embarrassed that Zack’s mother is standing here to see this tenderness.  
  
Mrs. Baker clears her throat, then says quietly, “I’ll go make some tea. Do you like tea, Brian?” And Brian tries to answer her, he really does, but he just ends up coughing.  
  
Zack answers for him, though. “Yeah, he drinks tea. Coffee, too, if you’d rather do a pot of decaf.”  
  
“Tea’ll be better,” Mrs. Baker says, taking a step back. “Matty is taking your father out, so you don’t need to worry about him. I’ll be in the kitchen whenever you’re ready.”  
  
Zack nods as Mrs. Baker steps away, and Brian closes his eyes, trying to breathe slow and deep. “I’m sorry,” he manages after a moment, ashamed at his breakdown.  
  
“Shh,” Zack shushes him, leaning forward to kiss him on the forehead again. “You don’t have a damn thing to be sorry for. I should have known something would happen—I just… I dunno, they’re my parents. I wanted them to see how great you are.”  
  
And it’s such a sincere statement, the tone of his voice and the way it rolls off his tongue: _I wanted them to see how great you are_. It makes Brian laugh, almost hysterical. “How’d that work out?” he asks sardonically. Then, “Shoulda left me at home.”  
  
“ _No!_ ” Zack says emphatically, holding Brian’s hands tightly. “No, you’re perfect. You’ve been perfect—ha! I don’t think I ever brought someone home to meet them who was actually polite and respectful. Fuck, you actually used a _napkin_ at the _dinnertable._ ”  
  
That makes Brian laugh for real, true this time. Zack smiles at him, green eyes bright and pleased. “Well,” Brian says. “We all know what a winner Alex was. It’s hard to top that, but I do try.”  
  
Zack barks out a surprised laugh in reply, squeezing Brian’s hands, and leans forward to kiss him on the lips.  
  
Brian kisses him back, and just continues to breathe…  
  
~*~  
  
Mrs. Baker ends up sitting him down on the front stoop with a cup of hot chamomile tea. Zack puts Ichabod on a leash, gives him to Brian, then tries to sit with him. But Mrs. Baker beckons Zack back inside to ‘help her with the dishes’. Though Brian is well aware that this is just a guise for wanting to talk to him.  
  
So he sits on the front step craving a cigarette, watching as Ichy trots around on the end of the leash sniffing at the sidewalk and the bits of grass he can reach. Brian drinks his tea slowly, trying not to be hyperaware of the time passing, just to concentrate on staying calm. The hard concrete underneath him is making him very aware that he can still _feel_ last night, that he still feels sensitive from their lovemaking. It forces him to stand after a bit, leaning up against the side of the wall instead.  
  
The front door opens shortly after, and Brian looks over expecting to see Zack. He finds Mrs. Baker stepping out instead, though, and his chest seizes up nervously. He steps away from the wall, about to excuse himself to go back inside, but Mrs. Baker preempts him. “Can I talk to you a moment, Brian?” she asks, gently closing the door behind her.  
  
 _I’d rather you not,_ Brian thinks. But he smiles and nods politely, trying to stay relaxed as she leans on the wall next to him.  
  
She takes a deep breath, then sighs, and Brian worries horribly about what she’s about to say. But then she begins, “I worry about Zack. He is such a kind, trusting person—and there are people in this world who will happily take advantage of someone with that sort of heart.”  
  
Brian frowns at her. “I would never…” he begins, but Mrs. Baker shakes her head at him.  
  
“I’m not looking for you to explain yourself. Or looking for reassurances,” she says. “But Zack has been through a lot, and I worry.”  
  
Brian stays silent, unsure what to do or say since she explicitly said she didn’t want reassurances. So he stares at the ground, where Ichabod is looking up at him, wagging his tail.  
  
“At the same time,” she continues, “I haven’t seen Zack like this since before—since before he came out to us. We fought, and he moved in with that ‘Alex’ guy. I blame myself, we pushed him away. Maybe if I’d been more accepting and paid more attention, none of that would have happened. But…”  
  
She trails off with a sigh, and Brian fidgets nervously, unsure what to say. Finally manages an, “I’m sorry…”  
  
She shakes her head, though, and continues. “No. Whatever it is, whatever you both have, it’s making him happy. And he’s my child—he and Matty are all I have. I’m getting old, too old to care about anything other than that. I want my children happy. I want to be a part of my children’s lives. I want to be there for all those important moments—like marriages, and babies, and… Well, I know that’s not on your boys’ agenda for now, but…” She stops, laughing lightly. “You probably wish I’d stop rambling.”  
  
Brian shakes his head ‘no’, though he’s not really sure what to say in reply. It’s such a deep, meaningful sentiment she’s sharing, and he’s almost too emotionally drained to process it. He stammers out, “Zack, uh—Zack’s told me a little about things. Family things. Said you ‘didn’t approve’. I was worried about coming here…” He trails off, mentally kicking himself for admitting that aloud.  
  
“It took me a while to come to terms with who he was. Who he is,” she says. Brian looks over at her then, finds her looking out across the front yard. “I mean—I was raised a certain way, we were told how things were supposed to be. But he’s my son, and I want him happy. I want him to be with someone who loves him and makes him happy.”  
  
And while Brian may have struggled for words before, he knows how to reply to that. “I love Zack. Very much,” he says, earnest and heartfelt.  
  
“I know,” she says, turning to look at him. She smiles softly, and continues, “I actually came out here to apologize for my husband. He’s…” A sigh. “We’ve grown apart a bit recently. A difference of opinions.”  
  
Brian nods, because that much about the differing opinions he’s deduced himself.  
  
Mrs. Baker says, “We’ve known for a while about your… past.”  
  
The phrasing makes Brian outright laugh, which brings the woman up short. He quickly chokes it back, apologizing, “Excuse me. I’m sorry.”  
  
The woman nods, continues, “I just had a long talk with Zack, and it was very eye-opening. I think there were a lot of misconceptions—miscommunication. We’d never outright talked about this.”  
  
 _Wait, what?_ Brian thinks. _You were inside talking to Zack about the fact I’m a whore?_ But he manages instead, “About…? What did he say?”  
  
She shakes her head, and says, “Oh, we don’t need to get into it. It just sounds like you’ve had a hard go, to put it mildly.”  
  
He shrugs noncommittally, and can’t help but wonder what Zack told her.  
  
As if on cue, the door opens behind them and Zack’s head peeps out. Brian smiles at the sight of him, while Zack frowns at his mother. “I thought you said you were going to the bathroom,” he says to her, accusing.  
  
“I did,” she replies, sliding away from the wall. “Then I came out here to check on Brian.”  
  
Zack’s frown deepens, before he turns worried eyes in Brian’s direction. “You okay?” he asks, stepping outside.  
  
“Yeah,” Brian answers truthfully. “Just tired.”  
  
Zack nods, looking dubious. Then, to his mother, “We should probably think about going soon.”  
  
“I really wish you’d still stay the night,” she says. “Or at least stay until your father comes home.”  
  
“Pfft,” Zack replies, turning to head back inside. “I really have nothing else to say to him. And I’ve already told you—we’re not going to stay where we aren’t welcome.”  
  
And Brian is silently relieved to hear this. He’d actually forgotten for the moment that they were supposed to be staying—though the thoughts of having to spend the night under this roof after what happened are terrifying.  
  
“Well, at least take some leftovers home?” Mrs. Baker says, following Zack inside.  
  
Zack chuckles, and answers, “Yes, Mom. We’d love some leftovers.”  
  
And so they head back inside to the kitchen.  
  
~*~  
  
“What did you say to her?” Brian asks Zack almost immediately after they pull out of the driveway. He’s feeling better, but he’s still nervous and fidgety. He’ll be happy when they get home, and he can chain smoke a few cigarettes.  
  
Zack glances at of him out of the corner of his eye, brow raised, as he pulls onto the main road. “I was going to ask you the same thing,” Zack says, then amends, “Or rather, ask exactly what she said to you.”  
  
“No—nothing really, just what you’d expect,” Brian answers, glancing out the window.  
  
“I don’t know what to expect. I didn’t realize she was going to go interrogate you,” Zack says, sounding exasperated. “I’m so sorry…”  
  
“No, it’s okay. She was nice,” Brian assures him. “She just said she wants you to be happy—and she worries about you. You know—things moms are supposed to say.”  
  
Zack chuckles a bit, then echoes Brian’s thoughts on the matter, “I think my dad has been the one fueling this… this tension the whole time. Which just pisses me off even more because she’s my _mom_ —he doesn’t have the right. And moreover, she shouldn’t listen to his bullshit!”  
  
Brian nods idly, and answers, “Yeah, I got that impression pretty quick. Like, when we walked in the door.”  
  
Zack huffs, then goes silent. The music on the radio plays quietly in the background as they head for the highway, and Brian repositions Ichabod on his lap as the pup lies down. “You know what she told me?” Zack speaks up again, grinning. “She thought you were sweet. And very handsome.”  
  
Brian feels himself blushing, though the sun is starting to set, the inside of the car cast in shadow, so he hopes Zack can’t tell. “But what did _you_ say to _her_?” Brian presses again.  
  
“I—uh—I just told her the truth,” Zack finally admits. “She cornered me in the kitchen doing the dishes and was all, ‘now that the cat’s out of the bag…’ Wanted me to tell her what was really happening. So I did.”  
  
“In vivid detail?” Brian asks, dreading the answer.  
  
“For fuck’s sake, no. She’s my mother,” Zack says, huffing in exasperation. Brian breathes out a sigh of relief. Zack continues, “She already knew you’d worked… you know. So I told her that you’d been homeless—which I thought they knew from Matty but apparently he left that out. And I told her that we met when I treated you in the clinic—and that it was really cold that winter, and you were sick, so I’d taken you home.”  
  
“You didn’t tell her you paid for me?” Brian asks, smirking.  
  
“My dipshit brother already told them that,” Zack says, shrugging sheepishly. “Though she wanted verification, so I kinda had to tell her ‘yeah’.”  
  
Brian guffaws, and has to ask, “What’d she say to that?”  
  
“She made the same sort of noise you just made,” Zack says with a grin. “Stupid ass laugh…”  
  
“You know? You’re mom’s really not half bad,” Brian decides, smiling tiredly to himself.  
  
“She surprised me today,” Zack admits, reaching over to lay a hand on Brian’s leg as they coast down the highway. Then, “But I’m so sorry about my dad—God, he pisses me off so much.”  
  
Brian shakes his head, thinking idly, _He wasn’t all that wrong…_  
  
“I don’t know how much you heard from the bathroom—he fucking accused me of only wanting you around for easy sex. I got so mad, I was fucking screaming at him,” Zack says, his hand tightening on Brian’s thigh. “And I know I shouldn’t have said anything, it’s your business, but _fuck_. I told him you were having to go to therapy after everything you’d been through, and he fucking calls me a liar. I was about to hit him, for real.” He laughs, though it’s without humor. “That’s when Mom told Matty to take him out to a movie. Or something…”  
  
Brian hums idly, just to let Zack knows he’s listening. He can’t help but feel for the man. Brian had never experienced such explicit disapproval from his own parents, in fact it’s hard to even imagine. His mom and dad had always been supportive of him, always encouraged him, always _loved_ him—at least while they’d been alive.  
  
He’s suddenly, cripplingly sad. He doesn’t think about his parents often—it’s become something akin to ancient history to him. But his parents aren’t around to see him now. Not around to see him getting an education finally, something they always wanted for him, wanted him to get an education and a good job. And they’re not around to see him grown, making a life for himself, trying to find happiness, finding love…  
  
They would have loved Zack… And they’ll never get to meet him.  
  
“You okay?” Zack asks gently, then sighs. “That was a stupid question, I’m sorry. It’s been a long day—especially for you. I’m so sorry for my dad…”  
  
“My parents would have loved you,” Brian tells him quietly, eyes still trained out the window. He feels Zack’s hand rub his thigh in response.  
  
“Oh, Brian…” Zack says sadly. “I know you miss them.”  
  
“I honestly don’t think about it much,” he answers. “But… they would have loved you. I wish they could meet you.”  
  
“I wish I could meet them, too,” Zack says, hand moving comfortingly over Brian’s jean-clad thigh. “I bet they would be proud of you.”  
  
Brian snorts on a laugh. “Yeah, they’d be so proud of their son, the whore.”  
  
Zack sighs. “I hate when you say shit like that,” he says quietly. Then, “They’d be proud you were going to school, working, seeing their son grown and happy…” A pause, where he glances out of the corner of his eye at Brian. “Or trying to be happy, at least.”  
  
“I am happy,” he says. He has to work a bit to make the words sound sincere, but deep down, he knows he’s okay. He’s going to be happy. Then, “Just… Stay with me, please—don’t give up on me. I love—“  
  
Before Brian can even finish the sentence, Zack is interrupting, “I’m not going to leave, babe. Never. I love you.” A gentle squeeze to Brian’s thigh, and a soft chuckle, then, “I kept thinking about last night—just randomly, at ridiculous moments. Standing in the kitchen washing the dishes, talking to my mom, my fucking _mom_ —and I’m suddenly just thinking how fucking irresistible you were, how good you felt, and I just wanted to leave and take you home right then. Screw my family…”  
  
Brian can feel his cheeks heating again, and he glances over at Zack, glad he’s not the only one still affected my last night. “I can still feel you,” he murmurs quietly, almost embarrassed to admit something so intimate, even to Zack. “It just keeps reminding me anytime I sit or move a certain way, I just remember you…inside me…how good…uh, you know…”  
  
“I hurt you? You’re sore?” Zack asks, sounding alarmed, but Brian shakes his head.  
  
“No, not exactly. Just sensitive. Like, still fucked-open,” he answers, trying to keep his voice steady, not let on to how embarrassed he actually is. “I think we had sex so often before I never, I dunno. I never really felt it afterward.”  
  
“Mmm,” Zack hums in reply. His hand is still stroking over Brian’s thigh, keeping Brian grounded. “Maybe. I wanted to make love to you again when we got home, but maybe we should give it a rest if you’re…”  
  
“We could do something else,” Brian proposes, surprising even himself.  
  
Zack glances at him, eyebrow raised. “I assume, all things considered, you aren’t suggesting Xbox.”  
  
That makes Brian laugh, and he settles back in the seat a bit, petting Ichy as the pup snuggles closer in his sleep. “No. No, I wasn’t,” he answers.  
  
“Whatever you want,” Zack says. “Whatever you’re feeling up for.”  
  
Brian nods, and says humorously, “It’ll depend on whether I pass out on the way home.”  
  
Zack just laughs in reply.  
  
~*~  
  
Hours later finds Brian sitting down on their couch, pants and underwear down around his ankles, Zack kneeling down between his legs. And Zack’s lips feel so good, thick and warm and soft, pressing teasing kisses along the head of his cock. Zack’s breath puffs hot over sensitive flesh, and he looks up at Brian through those vibrant green eyes, expression so sweet and adoring.  
  
And Brian is embarrassed, so aware of the way he was sweating earlier—just normal sweat from the day, but also the sweat from having a panic attack. And he hasn’t been very diligent about waxing or shaving himself _down there_ since he and Zack haven’t been having sex. He just saw no point in it, and hasn’t really had the motivation to make himself do it just for himself. And watching Zack kiss and lick at him, his nose occasionally pressing against the dark wiry curls around his cock…  
  
He’s worrying and stressing, and he’s only half-hard, more embarrassed about that than anything else. Because Zack’s smooth lips and hot tongue feel so good, and he should be hard. Hell, he should be about to come all over himself. But all he can think is to say, “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Mmm,” Zack moans, breath ghosting against Brian’s cock. “Relax, babe, just relax. I’ll get you hard,” Zack tells him, then seems to check himself. “Just let me make you feel good. I’m making you feel good, right? I’ll stop when you want me to—if you want me to…”  
  
And he really doesn’t want Zack to stop. It does feel good, so good, but he’s embarrassed. He doesn’t want Zack to be disgusted. “I just—I’m sorry. I’ve been sweating. And I need to get waxed, or at least shave. I didn’t even think about that last night…”  
  
“Is that what you’re apologizing for?” Zack asks against his cockhead, rolling his eyes. “If that was bothering me, I’d just use my hand.” Then to prove his point he goes down on Brian fully, his tongue laving across the underside of his cock, his mouth so hot. He pulls off with a pop after a moment, takes a deep breath, and finishes, “But it doesn’t. In the least.”  
  
Zack goes back down before Brian can come up with an answer, so he just moans idly, letting his hand rest on the back of Zack’s head. He feels better with Zack’s reassurance, and Zack’s lips and tongue feel _so_ good. Brian’s almost forgotten in the past few months how much he loves Zack’s mouth on him, and now that he’s starting to relax…  
  
Zack moans around his cock, then pulls off to rub his tongue against the underside of Brian’s cockhead, where he’s almost hypersensitive. Brian groans, hips curling instinctively towards Zack’s mouth. “Ungh, Zack, yeah,” he says quietly, fingers scraping against Zack’s scalp. “Like that—feels good.”  
  
Zack chuckles against him, and points out, “Told you I’d get you hard.”  
  
Brian laughs in reply, though it turns into a moan as Zack goes back down in earnest, bobbing his head enthusiastically, making soft noises in the back of his throat like he’s really and truly enjoying himself. Like he loves sucking dick—like he loves sucking _Brian’s_ dick. It’s mindblowing, really, and Brian tells him as much, “You’re something else.”  
  
Zack moans appreciatively in reply. And Brian’s fairly sure Zack doesn’t get it—that Zack thinks Brian is simply complimenting the blowjob. But it’s more than that, much more. It’s the care and love Zack has for him, the way he’s looking up at Brian through hooded sexy eyes, the feelings that bubble up in Brian’s chest as a result…  
  
 _I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you_ , Brian thinks idly, heat settling heavy in his stomach. _But God, I don’t know what I’d do without you._


	13. Part 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Zack,” Brian grates out, not necessarily appreciating the man’s humor. But still… “Yes, I remember the story. And the motel.”
> 
> “Good,” Zack says, the tone of his voice sexy and playful. “I thought maybe I could tell you some more stories, since you liked the last one.”

The Friday after Thanksgiving is easy, fun, and quiet.  
  
They sleep in late that morning, curled together under the covers. Brian drifts in and out once the sun comes up, aware of Zack’s proximity, the warmth and smell of his skin, the man’s deep even breathing. It’s comforting and soothing, especially as Zack begins to wake as well and pulls Brian close, holding him to his chest.  
  
They fool around under the sheets before getting out of bed—and Brian ups his ‘oh my God I had sex’ count to a total of three. Or at least adds a handjob to his count of ‘once, plus blowjob.’ Though three is such a better, simpler number. He decides to just stick with three.  
  
Both he and Zack have the day off, so they play a few rounds of Halo before deciding to go to the movies. There’s a new Michael Bay film out they both want to see, so they shower and head out. The theater is crowded—Black Friday, Brian supposes, most people are off work and school—but they manage to find good seats and settle in. After, they wander the mall together, stopping in some of the less busy shops to look around, discussing Christmas and presents. Zack holds his hand as they walk, their fingers entwined, seemingly unconcerned about the small public display in a mall packed with shoppers. But no one bats an eye at them, either not caring or too busy with their shopping to notice.  
  
They pile in on the couch when they get home, watching CSI reruns and eating the Thanksgiving leftovers for dinner, and Brian’s left thinking on what a wonderful day it’s been. He hasn’t been stressed or worried at all, all day—or at least not much, besides a little flicker of distress when they’d starting fooling around that morning, but that had been fleeting. Not the same kind of panic and worry that has gripped him before. And otherwise he has been relaxed, happy, and has truly enjoyed himself.  
  
Brian sighs quietly, contentedly, and feels Zack glance over at him from his seat on the couch. He looks back, smiling softly, and has a lot he wants to say. _I’m really, truly happy right now. Happier than I’ve been in a long time. I think things are maybe getting better…_ What he says instead is, “This shit is really good. Your mom’s a great cook.”  
  
Zack smiles back, and says, “I really should have let her teach me when I was younger. Then we’d be eating home-cooked meals instead of ordering take-out all the time.”  
  
“Hey, I’ve gotten really good at putting frozen dinners in the oven,” Brian says with a smirk.  
  
Zack laughs in reply, setting his empty plate down in his lap and leaning his head on Brian’s shoulder. “We’re a pair, you know that?” Zack says, the smile audible in his voice. Then adds what Brian has been thinking, “Today’s been really good.”  
  
Brian nods, then lets his head tip to the side to rest against Zack’s. “Yeah, it has,” Brian says. “I had a really good time.”  
  
“I’m so glad, babe,” Zack says, reaching to press a soft kiss to Brian’s cheek.  
  
Brian hums in reply, leaning into Zack’s lips instinctively, and smiles in contentment.  
  
~*~  
  
Zack has to work the next day, while Brian doesn’t have to go back to work or school until Monday. He drifts back to sleep once Zack leaves the apartment early that morning, before waking up fully a few hours later.  
  
He’s just out of the shower when his cellphone goes off, and he hurries out into the bedroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and snatches it off the dresser with a hurried, ”Hello?”  
  
He hadn’t checked to see who was calling, so he’s pleasantly surprised to hear Lacey’s voice. “Hi, Brian. It’s Lacey.”  
  
“Oh, hey!” Brian says, smiling. “What’s up?”  
  
“I just wanted to see how you were doing,” she answers worriedly. And Brian realizes that the last time they talked was the day before Thanksgiving, when he’d met with her and spoke about his fears over spending Thanksgiving with Zack’s family. And then ended up with Zack there as well, discussing how the man felt and his fears over their relationship. So really, no wonder she wants to see how he’s doing…  
  
“Oh, I’m doing good,” he says, still smiling to himself.  
  
“Really?” she asks, sounding a bit disbelieving.  
  
“Honest,” he tells her.  
  
“Are you doing anything this morning?” she questions then. “Do you want to meet up and have some coffee? Or late breakfast? Talk?”  
  
“Yeah, sure,” Brian answers. “I just got out of the shower, so let me get dressed. Meet you at Keke’s?”  
  
And so an hour later finds him dressed, shaved, and sliding into a booth across from the woman. They order coffee from their waitress, then are left by themselves. Lacey smiles at him encouragingly, and asks, “So, how was Thanksgiving?”  
  
“Ah, pretty good,” Brian answers, fingers drumming at the tabletop. “How about you?”  
  
“Oh, good,” she says. “Matt and Val invited us over—we had a great time. They said they missed you two, apparently you both usually spend the holidays with them?”  
  
“Yeah. At least we have ever since I’ve known Zack,” Brian answers, and chuckles. “Hopefully we’ll go back to that routine for Christmas. I’d rather not face Zack’s family again so soon.”  
  
Lacey frowns at him a bit, and asks, “That bad?”  
  
Brian shrugs. “No, not really, I guess. Zack’s mom was actually pretty nice. Very ‘momma-bear’, but still—that’s her kid, you know? Can’t really fault her. His dad, though…”  
  
“Did something happen?” Lacey asks calmly.  
  
“He had some choice things to say,” Brian states simply. “Zack wasn’t very happy about it. At all. We ended up leaving after dinner, didn’t stay any longer than necessary.”  
  
“What’d he say?”  
  
“That—“ Brian starts, and is about to shrug her off, tell her it isn’t important. Except that it is. “He accused me of just using Zack for his money. Whoring myself out in exchange for, you know, Zack’s hospitality. So to speak.”  
  
“And how did that make you feel?” Lacey questions, making Brian laugh.  
  
“How do you think?” he counters sardonically, continuing only at her inquiring stare. “Horrible. Awful. I ran away from them all like a spaz and shut myself up in the bathroom while Zack was yelling at him… I just couldn’t handle it, I dunno. I wish I could’ve said something intelligent in reply, but…”  
  
He trails off dejectedly. Lacey asks, “You said Zack was yelling? He stood up for you?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says. “I guess he tried to explain the situation, and his dad called him a liar. He was _so_ angry.”  
  
“So Zack obviously doesn’t feel the same way his dad feels,” Lacey says. “Would you agree?”  
  
“Yeah. I guess,” Brian answers. “He was really supportive after it all happened. We had a good talk. And Zack’s mom was nice, like I said. And a lot more accepting than either of us were expecting.”  
  
“Well, that’s good, at least,” Lacey says, smiling at him. They break for a moment as their coffee is brought to the table, then they order their breakfast. Then Lacey is stirring cream in her coffee, eyeing him thoughtfully, and Brian already knows the next question she’s going to ask. “You said you had a good talk with Zack?”  
  
Brian nods, feeling his cheeks flushing. _More than a good talk…_ he thinks idly. _A good fuck, too._ But he answers, “Yeah. About Zack’s family and what happened, you know…”  
  
Then, after a pause, Lacey prompts, “Have you both discussed any further what we spoke about on Wednesday? Before Thanksgiving? How you both were feeling—how Zack was feeling?”  
  
And Brian can feeling himself blushing even more, knowing what had happened in the end. “Well…” Brian says, trailing off.  
  
Silence settles, and so Lacey presses, “Well?”  
  
“Yeah, we had a long talk about things,” Brian says. “Then…”  
  
“Then…?” Lacey says.  
  
And he needs to just say it. _We had sex. Finally._ But he ends up prattling on, “Zack just explained how he felt we weren’t close anymore. Not like we used to be, you know? Not just because of, you know, the s-sex…” Even just saying the word causes him to trip over it. Fuck, what is _wrong_ with him? “…but that we didn’t talk like we used to. Or hug and kiss. We just weren’t like we used to be together, know?”  
  
“And that’s why he was feeling unloved,” Lacey clarifies, though it’s more of a statement than a question. “Because you both were emotionally distant as well as physically distant.”  
  
And yeah, that’s a good way to describe what Zack had said. Brian nods, humming affirmatively.  
  
“And you explained yourself to Zack?”  
  
“The best I could,” he answers. “I’m not good at explaining what I’m going through. I dunno, I just sounded like a maniac. And he just kept telling me I shouldn’t feel bad for, well, for how I feel.”  
  
“He’s right, you know,” Lacey says. “Your feelings are valid. You shouldn’t feel bad for having them.”  
  
Brian nods, adjusting his gaze down at the table, playing with the handle of his coffee cup. And he’s going to have to finish this story, he knows. Even if he’s unreasonably embarrassed—after everything he’s told this woman, he shouldn’t be embarrassed to simply admit that he had sex. But still he mumbles hurriedly, staring down at the table, “And-we-ended-up-having-sex… After-talking.”  
  
“What was that?” Lacey says, leaning forward over the table to hear him better.  
  
Brian clears his throat and tries again. “We had sex. Me and Zack. After we talked.”  
  
Lacey’s face breaks into a grin, and she says, “Well, how about that? And you enjoyed it? Everything went alright?” And a pause, while Brian blushes even brighter. “You didn’t feel pressured into it after discussing how Zack felt, right?” Lacey adds, slightly concerned.  
  
“No, no, that wasn’t how it was,” Brian says, answering that last question. Then, “It was—it was really good. It just sort of _happened_ after we talked. Zack was talking about sex and how he felt about it, and then we were just, you know, in the bed…”  
  
Lacey nods, smiling, and says, “I understand.”  
  
“It was good, though,” he says. “A little scary, but… really good.”  
  
“And you’ve only been intimate the once since your talk?” she asks. Then, “That’s okay, more than okay. Don’t worry…”  
  
“What—“ And God, if he blushes any harder his face his going to catch on fire. “What does that mean, exactly?”  
  
“What does what mean?” she asks, frowning.  
  
“ _Being intimate_ ” Brian hisses, making air quotes with his fingers.  
  
“Oh,” Lacey says, shaking her head with a small grin. “Whatever you feel like it means. Touching, intercourse…”  
  
She trails off as their food is brought to the table, and Brian thinks he might die of embarrassment. “I’m going to die of embarrassment,” he voices aloud once the waitress leaves, making Lacey laugh lightly at him.  
  
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” she tells him. “Sex is a completely natural, normal part of life. And you’re talking quietly to me, your therapist, about it. Not broadcasting it to everyone you know.”  
  
“Still embarrassing,” Brian gripes, unwrapping his silverware.  
  
Lacey shakes her head, smiling wryly. “You didn’t answer me,” she presses. “Once, or more?”  
  
“I dunno,” he says, then stuffs his mouth with a bite of egg to delay his response. He eventually has to answer, though, so he says, “Three times, I guess.”  
  
“Three… you guess. Okay, I suppose ‘guessing’ works,” she says with a grin, then takes a bite of her own breakfast. “That’s really good, Brian. This is a huge step forward. This must make you feel a lot better, too.”  
  
Brian nods, but finds himself asking, “What’s normal?” Then clarifies at Lacey’s confused expression, “How much is normal, for a normal relationship?”  
  
“How much sex?” Lacey asks, then continues when Brian nods. “Well, the magic number most psychologists refer to is two to three times a week, but…”  
  
“Oh dear God,” Brian bemoans, setting his silverware down. “We’re so not normal—or at least we weren’t before. Maybe I _am_ just trading myself for Zack’s money, have been all along. For fuck’s sake…”  
  
“ _But_ …” Lacey continues, cutting in sternly. “If you would let me finish. It’s been shown as well that ‘two to three’ is a very arbitrary count. It’s taken from an old study, and leaves a lot of variables open for debate. For example—how long you both have been together, how old you both are, how…”  
  
“We’ve been together forever, and we’re both getting old,” Brian cuts in with a sigh.  
  
Lacey huffs a little breath, shaking her head and tutting at him. “Actually, you’re both still young, thank you. You’re calling me old if you’re calling yourself old,” she says, shooting him a wry grin. Brian rolls his eyes as she continues, “And how long did you say you’ve both been together? Two, three years?”  
  
“Three years since I met him,” Brian says, realizing it truly has been three years now. Thanksgiving and all… “About two and a half since we’ve been, what do you wanna call it? Serious, I guess. Committed.”  
  
“And that’s still fresh for a relationship,” she says. “You’re both still young and physically attracted to each other. There’s nothing wrong with being a little more active than technically suggested.”  
  
Brian laughs, he can’t help it. “A little?” he says. “No, not a little. I’m talking five or six times a week—depending, I mean, sometimes things get busy and it’s not like that.”  
  
“That is _completely_ finel. For two young, healthy men? Yeah, that doesn’t worry me in the least.” Lacey shakes her head. “So _you_ shouldn’t worry about it. As long as it isn’t interfering with your life—your work, school, the other things you enjoy—and as long as you are both happy, then it honestly isn’t a problem. Everyone’s sex drive is different, and everyone’s need for intimacy is different.”  
  
And Brian can’t help but think about what Zack had said to him that day in the car. He can remember his words clearly. _And I don’t know how you felt about it… Sex with you wasn’t just ‘sex’… My chance to be close to you. To be that close to you…_ And something is suddenly very clear to Brian: it wasn’t the man’s sex drive that fueled those words. He finds himself saying, “I was making Zack upset. And I think that’s why.”  
  
“Hmm?” Lacey hums. “Why?”  
  
“He—he needs to…to be close to me, you know, to be happy with the relationship,” Brian clarifies, picking and choosing his words.  
  
“Personally? I think he was mostly upset because _you_ have been upset, but that’s just my take on things from the outside. From talking to him the once,” she says. “But if you feel like he does need physical closeness to be happy, please remember—that doesn’t mean you have to have sex to make him happy. You still have the right to not want to, and to say ‘no’.”  
  
 _Then what am I supposed to do?_ Brian thinks, playing idly with his food.  
  
But it’s like Lacey knows what he’s thinking. “There are other things you can do to be close without actually being sexual, you know?” Lacey says. “Hugging, kissing, cuddling, all that ‘couples’ stuff… Intimacy isn’t solely about having sex.”  
  
And then another thing Zack had said comes back to him. _God, if you would just let me hold you every once in a while… You don’t even let me hold you at night anymore before we go to sleep…_ “Yeah,” Brian says, an idea already forming in his mind. “Yeah, that’s true.”  
  
“If you’re having a bad day—like you’ve told me happens sometimes, you’re feeling anxious, upset, ‘stuck’—you don’t have to force yourself to please him. You’ve already been down that road, and we’ve established that it doesn’t work,” Lacey says, apparently afraid he’s just going to go back to square one now.  
  
But Brian shakes his head. “No, I know.”  
  
“You can, however, let him hug you. Let him hold you,” she says, and Brian rolls his eyes at the terminology. Lacey obviously notices. “What was that for?” she asks.  
  
“Should I swoon while he holds me?” he asks sarcastically.  
  
Lacey just swats him with her napkin from across the table in reply, shaking her head. She changes the subject after a beat, and asks, “What do you do for relaxation?”  
  
“Huh?” Brian asks, not quite following.  
  
“Do you have anything you do for relaxation?” she says, rephrasing the question. “Stress relief? Reading, drawing, playing an instrument… A creative outlet can do wonders to relieve anxiety.”  
  
Brian sighs. “I read sometimes,” he says, then adds. “I used to play guitar, but haven’t picked it up in ages.”  
  
“Try picking it up again,” Lacey suggests. “See how you do. It might help more than you think.”  
  
And Brian nods, already turning things over in his mind.  
  
~*~  
  
Brian finds himself thinking about it for the rest of the day, about what he’d spoken about with Lacey.  
  
He ends up rummaging through their closet that evening to find the acoustic Zack had bought him. It’s the first birthday present Zack had ever gotten him, on that first birthday he’d celebrated with the man. And it’s still one of the most cherished gifts he’s ever received—even now, untouched for months out of Brian’s apathy, the case covered in a thin layer of dust. The memories alone make Brian smile as he pulls the case from the closet and takes it out into the living room.  
  
The guitar is far out of tune, and it takes him a while to smooth the sound back out. But then it is easy falling back into it, easy to let his fingers play over the strings, humming along to himself. And it’s there that Zack finds him when the man comes home from work, obviously a little surprised at first, but then his face breaks out into a bright smile.  
  
And Brian really hopes the man isn’t going to makes a big deal about this. He just got the guitar out because Lacey mentioned it, and it sounded like a good idea. He doesn’t want to hear how ‘awesome it is’ or how ‘he must be feeling better…’  
  
But bless Zack, he just presses a chaste kiss to Brian’s forehead and says, “I love hearing you play—you play so well.”  
  
He still wonders over the others things he’d discussed with Lacey, though, the thought there nagging in the back of his mind. But he waits. He doesn’t get up the nerve to mention the subject until late that night, after he and Zack have both finished off the last of the Thanksgiving leftovers, watched some late-night reruns, then climbed into bed. And then, it’s only the way that Zack leans over from his side of the bed to kiss Brian on the lips with a sweet, mumbled ‘good-night’, only to roll back over on his side, his tattooed back to Brian, that makes Brian finally do something.  
  
Sure, it’s how things have been recently, a kiss goodnight then separate sides of the bed lest someone rub up against the other by mistake. But it never used to be that way, not before. Post-coital or not, they would always cuddle under the covers at night, one holding the other until they fell asleep. Of course they would eventually end up sprawled apart, Zack on his back and Brian on his belly snoring quietly into his pillow. But Brian doesn’t know when they stopped falling asleep together, curled up together, and Zack’s words still ring clear:  
  
 _God, if you would just let me hold you every once in a while… You don’t even let me hold you at night anymore before we go to sleep…_  
  
“Zack?” Brian speaks up as Zack settles in, unsure of what he wants to say. ‘Let’s cuddle,’ sounds too damn camp, and ‘Hold me,’ sound too weak. He settles for reaching his hand out, and saying, “Come here.”  
  
“Hmm?” Zack murmurs, tired from a full day at work. He reaches out and takes Brian’s hand, though the confused tilt of his brow is sign enough he’s not sure what’s happening. “You okay?” he asks.  
  
“Yeah, m’fine,” Brian answers, turning himself to lie on his side while firmly pulling on Zack’s hand, pulling until Zack moves to accommodate and Zack’s arm is draped across his side.  
  
“Oh,” Zack says after a beat, realizing, then a breathy little puff of laughter. The man moves further then, until he’s lying pressed up against Brian’s back, one of his legs gently sliding between Brian’s. He feels solid, and warm, and Brian sighs quietly. Zack mutters sleepily, “You coulda just said something. You didn’t need to drag me across the bed.”  
  
“I did. I told you to ‘come here’,” Brian says, and feels rather than hears Zack’s laughter against the back of his neck. It’s quiet then, and Brian closes his eyes even though his mind is still busy, still turning things over. Zack’s breath his warm and steady against the back of his neck, his hand softly rubbing a few times over Brian’s chest before stilling. And the only reason Brian eventually opens his mouth again and voices what he’s thinking is because he’s mostly sure the man has fallen asleep. He won’t answer if he can’t hear him… “Zack? I—I get it, I figured it out. I’ll do better.”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Zack mutters sleepily, hugging him a bit.  
  
Brian swallows, and says, “Nothing. Nevermind. Go back to sleep.”  
  
“No,” Zack says, stirring around. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”  
  
“I just,” Brian tries. “I talked to Lacey a bit today,” he finally settles on, continuing, “We talked a little about what had happened, you know? And I told her we’d been doing better…”  
  
“That’s good,” Zack says, encouraging. Though his tone of voice is clear he’s waiting for more.  
  
“But…” Brian says. He has to pause, searching for the right words. He doesn’t want to sound pathetic, or stupid, and it’s an embarrassing subject for him anyway. Eventually he decides to say, “Remember when you said it wasn’t ‘just sex’ to you?”  
  
Zack nods against the back of his neck, and Brian feels the man’s lips ghost against his skin. “Yeah. And I meant that,” he answers.  
  
“Well, I get it. I understand,” Brian says, then repeats from before, “I’ll try to do better.”  
  
“No, wait, what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Zack asks, raising up on an elbow to look down at Brian. “I don’t want you to just let me fuck you because you think it’s what I want. That’s _not_ what I want, I don’t want it unless you want it too. That ‘faking it’ crap was not cool, not cool at all. If you’re not turned on, and you don’t want to, just say something.”  
  
And this isn’t the reaction Brian was expecting. He swallows, rolling slightly on his back to look up at Zack, and answers, “Yeah. Okay.”  
  
There’s a weird, awkward pause, before Zack asks, his tone of voice forcibly neutral, “Do you not feel that way too? That it’s more than ‘just sex’?”  
  
And Brian honestly doesn’t know how to answer that. So he says truthfully, “I-I really dunno, I’m sorry… I mean the past couple of times have been so fucking amazing. Yeah, definitely more than ‘just sex’. But…” He pauses, laughing lightly, awkwardly. “I dunno, I’m not good at this. You know, talking, trying to explain things to you. I know, that’s really fucking sad.”  
  
“It’s okay,” Zack tells him quietly, hand lingering along Brian’s chest. “If there’s one thing all of this has taught me, it’s that we’re not very good at communicating with each other. I think we just started this relationship fucking, and now, well, we’re better at that than we are at anything else.” He pauses, letting his hand drift over Brian’s pectoral. Then, “Or at least, that _was_ our forte, ha… Though for real, I’m glad it’s been really good for you here recently. That’s how I want it to be for you all the time.”  
  
Brian nods, sighing. Then admits, “Sex is so weird for me now, I dunno. After everything it’s just…embarrassing. Even just talking about it with you right now is embarrassing.”  
  
Zack actually laughs aloud. “Brian, babe, it’s a little late to be embarrassed. I’ve done seen you and had you in every position on every surface of this damn apartment…”  
  
“ _Zaaack_!” Brian squawks, mortified. “That—that’s what I’m talking about. Fucking embarrassing.”  
  
“Nah. It’s not. S’sexy. Fucking hot,” Zack says, leaning down to nuzzle at his cheek. Brian sighs, blushing. Zack speaks up again, “Just no more faking, okay? No more faking. Just tell me if you don’t feel like it, or if you’re not getting turned on.”  
  
“I didn’t think you noticed, before,” Brian says. Zack just laughs again.  
  
“You’d have to be a fucking moron to be balls deep in someone and not realize they aren’t actually coming,” Zack says, his voice a little breathy.  
  
“There’re a bunch of morons out there, then,” Brian says, staying vague, not really wanting to bring up his past right then.  
  
Zack huffs an exasperated sigh. “You can feel it, you know?” he murmurs. “I can feel that—feel you coming around my cock when I’m fucking you. You can make noises all you want, but you can’t fake that shit…”  
  
Brian can feel himself blushing so hard, and he’s really not sure what has gotten into Zack… “And what has been with you lately, anyway?” he adds, meeting his lover’s gaze. “The shit coming out of your mouth, dude… Fucking filthy.”  
  
Zack chuckles, and noses at his cheek. “I never realized how much you liked that before,” Zack says in reply. “If I’d known all I had to do to get you riled up was tell you how hot and sexy you were, and throw in a dirty fantasy for good measure, then I would have done that _months_ ago…”  
  
Brian can’t help but laugh. “I—yeah, okay,” he says, unsure what else to say to that. After all, it’s not like he can deny it.  
  
Zack just huffs out a laugh, and repeats his words back to him, “Yeah, okay.” The man snuggles closer in the quiet then, and Brian wonders if he’s trying to turn this into something more. They are both so close, Brian tucked into the curve of Zack’s body as they settle back and relax—Zack’s chest against Brian’s back, Zack’s hips against Brian’s ass, one of Zack’s legs tangled in between Brian’s own.  
  
But then Zack just presses a kiss to the back of Brian’s neck, murmuring another soft ‘good-night, love you’ to him. Brian echoes the sentiment, eventually letting his eyes slide closed as Zack begins to drift off to sleep.  
  
He isn’t able to fall asleep until Zack is completely out, not until the man releases him in his sleep and rolls over. Though Brian figures that’s a small sacrifice, all things considered.  
  
~*~  
  
The holiday weekend comes to an end, and with Monday comes Brian’s normal routine. Work and school—a research paper due at the end of the week, and a few extra shifts at the coffee shop to make up for no work over the holidays. The cold starts to come in with the end of November, and they pull their jackets and hoodies out of the back of the closet, bundling up when they head out of the apartment.  
  
Life is going easy and smooth, and then Brian comes home Thursday night from the closing shift to find Zack standing shirtless in the kitchen with takeout on the stove. “I got you something,” Zack tells him, smiling, and Brian is pretty sure he’s talking about the food. Mostly sure. Though the man has a tone of voice that puts Brian on edge. “You go ahead and eat, I’m going to take a quick shower,” Zack tells him, before disappearing into the bedroom and leaving Brian to his own devices.  
  
Brian eats slowly, nervous, watching Ichabod play with one of his squeaky toys. Subconsciously he knows something is happening—this isn’t their normal routine for the late evening. It’s already well past ten at night, nearing eleven, and by this time of night they are usually settled in on the bed reading, or playing games on their tablets and laptops, (or fucking.) Yet when Brian gets up and finally wanders into the bedroom, he does not find Zack propped up in bed with his glasses on, a book in his hands or a computer in his lap…  
  
No, he finds the man sitting on the edge of the bed clearly waiting for him, the only light in the room from a few candles lit on the dresser, a couple of towels folded neatly on top of the bedsheets, and music playing quietly in the background. Brian almost turns and flees, not ready to handle this new situation. Instead, he snaps at Zack, “What’re you doing?”  
  
Zack frowns at him, clearly not expecting his tone, and repeats from earlier, “I got you something.” He reaches out then, waving a small bottle held in his hand at Brian. “Massage oil,” he elaborates. “Aromatherapy—to relieve stress and help relax.”  
  
“No,” Brian spits, unsure why he’s so offended. Except… “What? Are you trying to...to _romance_ me so I’ll feel better? Don’t bother—once you’ve been fucked in an alleyway next to a dumpster, romance seems a little…”  
  
“Brian, stop,” Zack interrupts, brows furrowing. “That’s not… No. I just thought you might like to lie down and relax for a while. And get a massage—a massage with actual oil, from an actual body shop. Not just with ‘Suave for Men’ lotion…”  
  
And Brian almost caves. Almost. The fact that Zack has at some point in time stopped at this body shop because he was thinking about Brian, and thinking about doing this for Brian, is leaving Brian astounded. Enough so that he doesn’t even know how to react. He’s both amazed and angry at the same time, and so he says in retort, “I suppose you’re expecting to fuck me afterward?”  
  
Zack rolls his eyes so hard at that, Brian’s surprised they don’t roll right out of his head. He stands from the bed, still shirtless in only a pair of loose sweatpants, and Brian watches him cautiously, aware that he’s upset that man. “Brian, I get it,” Zack says after a moment, moving to stand in front of him. “I do, I get it. I’ve been depressed before, I’ve had anxiety before, I’ve been in that place where just getting out of bed in the morning was a struggle. But Brian…” He trails off, reaching out to take hold of Brian by the shoulders. “Babe, you gotta fucking stop this. It’s me, it’s _me_ —and I’m _right here_. You’re strong, and you can handle yourself, I get it—but it’s _me_. And I don’t mind if you lean on me every once in a while. In fact, I wish you would…”  
  
“Zack,” Brian sighs out, the fight in him suddenly dead. But he still _doesn’t want to give in_.  
  
“Or at least talk to me,” Zack continues. “Tell me what’s wrong. Don’t just get angry and push me away because you’re upset about something…”  
  
 _It’s so much easier to be angry, though,_ Brian thinks idly, but still allows himself to be pulled into a hug when Zack drags him close. “M’sorry,” he mumbles eventually.  
  
“S’okay,” Zack says, releasing him after a moment. His green eyes peer up at Brian, inquisitive. “Now, would you like to tell me what that was actually about?”  
  
“You just—you shouldn’t have done all this for me,” Brian says, trying to turn away from Zack and blow the candles out. But Zack catches him by his wrist before he can get anywhere.  
  
“I bought some oil, and lit a couple of candles. That’s not exactly ‘all this’,” Zack answers, smirking. Then, “Has your self-esteem just recently gone to shit? Or has it always been shit, and the ‘tough-guy’ act was just a convenient cover…?”  
  
Brian chuckles, because Zack already knows the answer to that question, Brian is sure of it. He allows himself to be pulled back into Zack’s arms, the man gently caressing the back of his neck before his hands slide lower. Brian’s okay when Zack tugs his shirt over his head, and he’s even alright as Zack’s hands roam over his chest, fingers lightly teasing over his nipples. But as Zack’s hands slide lower, grabbing and pulling on Brian’s belt, Brian can feel the nervousness in the pit of his stomach, and he takes an instinctive step back, breaking away from Zack.  
  
They’re left a few steps apart staring at each other, Zack blinking in surprise and Brian biting his lip. “What—what’s wrong?” Zack asks eventually, frowning. Then, “Don’t… I’m not going to just jump on you, babe. I dunno if that question before was serious, but _no_ , I don’t expect sex. I never _expect_ it… If you get turned on while I’m touching you, then great—but if not…”  
  
“Do you think your dad was right?” Brian asks suddenly. “That I am just using you for your money?”  
  
He watches Zack’s expression change, watches as it becomes pinched and heated. “What the hell?”  
  
“I mean, that’s really what happens,” Brian points out. “You pay for my school, and my food, and most of my stuff, and let me stay here. And in exchange, we fuck. Isn’t that…?”  
  
“I swear to fucking God…” Zack says, running his hands over his face, obviously angry. “No, Brian, that is not what happens. Yes, I pay for a lot of your things. I help pay for your school, yes—so that later on you’ll be able to get a good, full time job. And with two sources of income in the house, hell… We could fucking _purchase_ a house, and not be in an apartment. And you stay here with me, in my home, because this is where I want you, where you belong…”  
  
“Zack,” Brian tries to butt in, getting ready to backpedal.  
  
“And I make love to you, or fuck you—whatever the hell you like to call it—because I love you, all of you. Mind, body, soul. And having you spread naked for me, moaning in pleasure is so fucking amazing…”  
  
“Zack,” Brian tries again, blushing now.  
  
“And nothing pisses me off more than this ‘sex is payment’ bullshit—which mind you, you’ve pulled twice now,” Zack plows on. “I can handle just about anything else you throw at me—be insecure, be upset, be stressed… I can take it, hell, I’d take it _from_ you if I could. But don’t fucking accuse me of using you, don’t _ever…_ ”  
  
And Brian? He didn’t mean to come in here and start a fight. He doesn’t like fighting—who does?—but the drama, the tension, the tone of Zack’s voice has him tied in knots. He runs his hands nervously through his hair, messing it up, and paces away from Zack, then paces back. Eventually says, “M’sorry. I didn’t mean…”  
  
“Really?” Zack interrupts. “Because you sounded pretty serious. Like you meant it.”  
  
“I wasn’t ever saying I thought you were using me, I…” Brian says, trailing off. He sits down on the bed with a sigh, and thinks, _Communication._ “I worry,” he continues. “I have doubts, and all these ‘what-ifs’ always in my head. I don’t deserve you—“ Zack tries to cut in at that, but Brian talks over him. “—and I keep waiting for the other shoe to fall. Because eventually it’s going to. It has to.”  
  
Zack sighs, his anger apparently burning out into frustration, and sits down on the bed next to Brian. “Why?” he asks. “And what? What are you expecting to happen? Nothing is going to happen.”  
  
Brian looks over at him, at his gorgeous green eyes so full of concern, and crumbles. “That you’ll leave,” Brian says, and finishes before Zack can cut in. “And no, I don’t want you to. We already talked about that, right? But it scares me, hell, it’s what I’m most afraid of. That you’ll leave and I’ll…” _Be lost, have no hope, resort back to old ways…_  
  
“Brian, babe, no,” Zack says, sounding devastated, and reaches for Brian. Brian allows himself to be pulled close, allows Zack to cradle him against his chest and kiss his face, the warmth of his bare skin and the press of his lips comforting. “I’m not going to leave, how many times do I have to say it?”  
  
“I know, you say it. But I still worry, it still scares me. I can’t help it,” Brian tells him, then laughs quietly. “I know, first sign of insanity, right? Doing the same shit over and over with no different results? Yeah, that’s pretty much what I do—just go round and round in circles stressing over the same shit. You think I’d learn.”  
  
“You need to be on medication,” Zack tells him, quiet, almost like he’s already expecting Brian to shoot him down. “If I wrote you a script for something…”  
  
“I’m not taking crazy pills,” Brian argues.  
  
“They’re not ‘crazy pills’,” Zack says, sounding exasperated once again. “Just something mild. I have something in mind—I can write it down for you, and you can look it up online when you get a chance, if you want. Just something to take the edge off, help you sleep—make it easier for you to cope.”  
  
“I don’t need…” Brian insists.  
  
“Babe, you’ve been through a lot. A lot before, and a lot recently. You might need a little help,” Zack says, gently running a hand through Brian’s hair. “And we don’t really know everything—you could have a family history of depression and anxiety on top of everything.”  
  
 _I do,_ Brian thinks idly. He doesn’t want to admit it, but Zack might be right. “Okay, I’ll—I’ll think about it.”  
  
“Good,” Zack says simply, pressing a quick kiss the Brian’s forehead. “Now, why don’t you lie down in the bed, try to relax, and let me give you that massage? Yeah?”  
  
“I—“ Brian starts, getting ready to argue, but then acquiesces. He doesn’t want to fight again. “Okay…” So he stands from the bed, slowly unbuckles his belt then undoes his flies, pushes his black pants down off his hips and toes out of his sneakers.  
  
Zack smiles at him, a soft gentle thing, before standing as well and spreading one of the towels across the bedsheets. _Sure, he’s not expecting sex,_ Brian thinks sarcastically at that, before figuring he should probably give the man a break. He might be just trying to keep the massage oil off the sheets.  
  
“I’m gonna keep my underwear on,” Brian tells him, climbing up on the bed, unsure why he’s suddenly averse to taking it off. To paraphrase Zack, the man has seen him and had him in almost every way imaginable, so being bashful and shy at this point seems ludicrous. But still, he feels more comfortable with his briefs still on as he settles down in the bed, his torso, hips, and thighs laid out on the towel.  
  
“Whatever you want,” Zack tells him, letting a hand wander over Brian’s back as he sits on the bed by Brian’s side. Brian can hear him moving around, so he turns his head to look over his shoulder. Sees the man opening the bottle of massage oil and pouring some out on his hands.  
  
The scent hits the air after a moment, just as Zack smooths his palms across Brian’s shoulderblades. It’s a clean, fresh scent with maybe a hint of mint, and Brian breathes in deep, then exhales slowly. He turns his head back around straight, relaxing into the pillow, and wonders why he’d fought Zack about this in the first place. “That smells good,” Brian murmurs. “Kinda like your aftershave…”  
  
Zack chuckles, and answers, “I guess it kinda does.” Then, “It smelled clean, s’why I got it.”  
  
 _You know me, and what I like, far too well,_ Brian thinks, but just sighs in pleasure, then heels of Zack’s hand kneading at his shoulders. “You know, you don’t have to do this,” he says.  
  
“I know. But I want to,” Zack says. “I get something out of this, too, you know? I get to rub my hands all over you, and listen to you make sweet little noises.” His thumbs press in against the back of Brian’s neck, rubbing small yet calculated circles into tense muscle, and Brian can’t help the tiny moan that escapes him. Zack chuckles, and adds, “Yes, noises just like that…”  
  
Brian echoes his laugh, though it turns into another soft moan as Zack’s hands begin to travel down his back—first between and over his shoulderblades, then lower, working the muscles around his spine. They’re quiet for the most part, Zack humming encouragingly to him on occasion, Brian moaning or sighing when he can’t hold it back. The music plays on in the background, soft rock, familiar songs. Brian closes his eyes, and lets Zack mold his body at will.  
  
“You know where I see myself in five or ten years?” Zack asks suddenly, hands wandering even further, down to Brian’s lower back. He’s especially sensitive here, tense and a little sore, and the feeling of Zack’s hands working the strain from his muscles makes him press back into Zack’s touch, subconsciously looking for more. He sighs contentedly, turning his head to look back at Zack. Zack continues, “Well, it’s not really a plan, not like a goal or anything. More a bunch of ‘maybe’s. I figure, like I said earlier, once you’re out of school and you’ve got a steady job, maybe we’ll buy a house together. Have more room, you know? And maybe we can get another dog—or hell, a couple of more dogs once we’ve got the room…”  
  
“Your mom wants a grandbaby—are you sure she’s going to be happy with grandpuppies?” Brian asks, grinning languidly.  
  
Zack grins back at him, and ventures hesitantly, “Or maybe… Maybe we could adopt a child.” And Brian’s heart stops cold in his chest. Zack continues on, though, unfazed, “I mean, I dunno. Later on, a whole lot later on. I don’t want that kinda responsibility right now—and I’m sure you don’t either. But the point of all of this was…” He trails off, letting his hands slide even lower, until his fingers are toying with the waistband of Brian’s underwear. “There’s no future I see for myself that you’re not a part of. I’m in this thing for the long haul—the only way we’ll part ways is if _you_ decide to leave _me_. So don’t be afraid that I’m going to go somewhere. I’m not. You understand?”  
  
Brian blinks at him, watching as the man takes his hands off of him and reaches for the oil again. He sighs, feeling as though he’s been riding an emotional rollercoaster. Fighting one minute, depressing conversation the next, thinly veiled promises of forever after that… He sighs, pressing his face back into the pillow, and mumbles at Zack, “Love you. Not going to leave.”  
  
“Love you, too,” Zack murmurs back, before his oiled hands slide down the back of Brian’s thighs. Brian starts at first, unprepared for the caress. But Zack coos at him, gently squeezing each thigh a couple of times before moving both his hands to Brian’s right leg and beginning to work in earnest. Silence settles again for several minutes, the music calm in the background, before Zack speaks up again. “Last time we were here, I told you a story. You seemed to like that.”  
  
And Brian doesn’t follow. “What?” he says, the word muffled into his pillow. So he turns his head to the side to peer back at Zack, “What story? Last time we were where?”  
  
“Here, in bed together, naked. Or, mostly naked,” Zack answers, giving Brian a couple of pats to his fabric-covered rump before going back to the massage. And then, with an amused smirk, “And don’t you remember my story? How I remember our first time together in that motel? I mean, you were there for both—the story, and the actual first time.”  
  
“Zack,” Brian grates out, not necessarily appreciating the man’s humor. But still… “Yes, I remember the story. And the motel.”  
  
“Good,” Zack says, the tone of his voice sexy and playful. “I thought maybe I could tell you some more stories, since you liked the last one.”  
  
“More stories?” Brian asks. “Are you trying to subdue me with dirty-talk?”  
  
“Maaaaaybe…” Zack says, the word drawn out long and sing-song. Brian grins into his pillow, the teasing beginning to ease any nerves that were still lingering. But then Zack grips the underside of Brian’s knee, tone of voice suddenly firm, and says, “Babe, you know I’m only playing, right? If you don’t wanna…”  
  
“No, I—“ Brian starts, trying to figure out how to say what he wants to say. He finally decides on, “Tell me a story. Please.”  
  
“Oh. Okay,” Zack says, and practically giggles, ducking his head down as he slides his hands to Brian’s calf muscle. “Well, let me think of something, hmm… Well… Oh, I know! And you might not even remember this.”  
  
“I think I’ll remember,” Brian scoffs. Zack laughs.  
  
“I dunno, you were drunk off your ass. You might not,” Zack says, his hands warm sliding against skin. “It was that first Halloween we were together, and we went out to that bar down on Main. With Matt and Val. And Johnny. And Michelle. They had a special on jello-shots that night—orange and black jello, of course—and you were fucking going to town. Like, at least five shots more than you could really handle. Drunkest I have ever seen you—and that’s including the first time I got you drunk, and I, well, you know…”  
  
Zack trails off, apparently not wanting to bring up that other disastrous night. Brian can’t really blame him. But still… “I remember the jello shots. The black ones were licorice—fucking gross.”  
  
“Gross or not, it didn’t stop you,” Zack says with a chuckle, moving his hands over to Brian’s other calf. “So maybe you remember being at the bar, but I doubt you remember anything else…”  
  
Brian shrugs, a little loathe to admit that he really doesn’t. Zack just laughs, digging his thumbs into the muscle and making Brian sigh in pleasure.  
  
“You were your usual drunk self, of course. Very happy, and very _very_ friendly. Once you were plenty enough shots in, you’re fucking climbing all over me, talking nasty in my ear, trying to shimmy out of your shirt…”  
  
“Oh my God,” Brian says, not sure he will be able to look any of their friends in the eye ever again. Even if this was years ago.  
  
“So I finally decided I needed to take you home, before you started trying to take off your pants, too,” Zack says with a laugh. “And I’ve got a boner the whole way home, because you keep sneaking your hand across the seats and rubbing me through my jeans.”  
  
Brian groans, embarrassed, and turns his head on the pillow so he can look back at Zack. Zack grins back at him, playful.  
  
“Then we get home, and I help you inside onto the bed. I figure you’ll pass out while I take Ichy outside, but no… When I come back in, you’re butt-ass naked in the kitchen hanging onto the counter, kinda wobbly. And you see me and say, ‘I’m going to ride you like a wild stallion’—or something like that, don’t remember exactly…”  
  
Brian can’t help but laugh, and insists, “I did not!”  
  
“Oh, but you did,” Zack says, echoing his laugh. “And you rode me, too. All the way from the kitchen, to the couch, to the bed. I didn’t think you had it in you, honestly, you were so far gone. Figured you’d have whiskey-dick…” Brian grunts at that, unenthused, but Zack continues. “But you got plenty hard, babe, so good. It took you forever to come, probably because you were so drunk—but I swear that just made it better. We fucked for a good while on the kitchen floor before…”  
  
“On the _kitchen floor_?” Brian asks, interrupting, suddenly ten times more interested. And aroused. Coincidently, Zack chooses then to run his hands up from Brian’s calf to his thigh, pressing deep into the muscle at first before relaxing the touch into a more soothing caress. And Brian can feel himself becoming flushed, that heat dropping low in his stomach. “I really wish I remembered this,” he adds.  
  
“Mmmhmm, right there on the kitchen floor in front of the sink. You were just—just _desperate_ , moaning and begging for me. I tried to get you back into the bedroom, but then you just sat down on the floor, licked your fingers, and started fingering yourself right there. No fucking inhibitions, none at all. It took all of my self-control not to just jerk you back up and bend you over sink just like that, but I didn’t want to hurt you, was afraid I’d hurt you… So I ran in the bedroom, got the lube, and came back.”  
  
“Fuck,” Brian say idly. He can feel himself getting turned on listening to Zack talk, feeling Zack’s hands still on him. Can feel himself getting hard. He pushes his hips down against the mattress just a bit, enjoying the pressure.  
  
“And you helped yourself once I was back,” Zack says with a husky chuckle. “Once I got back and got on the floor with you, you climbed right on and fucking took what was yours. You were so damn hot— eager and demanding. You knew what you wanted, you knew how you wanted it, and you weren’t a bit afraid to tell me.” He pauses then, and Brian feels him remove his hands from his thigh, only to ease them back onto his lower back. And Zack moves slow, a few gentle caresses against the skin before his hands slide lower, and then lower still, until he’s cupping Brian’s still-clothed buttocks. He gives Brian a good, firm squeeze, before asking, “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian breathes, leaning back into Zack’s hands. And adds, “You can take those off, if you want. My undies, I mean…”  
  
Zack nods affirmatively, then answers, “Alright. In a minute or so.” He pauses, leaning down and placing a quick, soft kiss against his spine. Once he straightens up, he goes back to Brian’s body, Brian’s ass, pressing and squeezing. And fuck, it feels much better than it should… “But yeah, right there in the kitchen,” Zack continues, back to his story. “I held out for as long as I could for you, but you were just so fucking sexy, bouncing up and down on my cock, and _God_ , if you only knew how fucking amazing you feel… I eventually lost it, came so hard.”  
  
Brian groans, grinding down against the mattress, unable to help himself. Zack hums encouragingly, using his hands to urge on Brian’s movements.  
  
“But you weren’t finished yet. I tried to get you to the bedroom, but you stumbled into the couch and fell into it, drunk as fuck still. And you’re yelling that you want my cock again, but damn, I just don’t have that quick a turnaround,” Zack continues, laughing. “But you were ass up on the couch, so damn hot, all spread open for me. I just had to have that. So I kept you happy enough with my fingers until I got it up again—and finally managed to get you back into the bedroom.”  
  
Zack hooks his fingers under the waistband of Brian’s briefs at that, and pulls down slowly. Brian wiggles his hips until the underwear slides down to his thighs, letting Zack pull them the rest of the way down and toss them off the bed. Then Zack’s hands are back on his ass, but skin against skin instead, and Brian can’t help the soft gasp that escapes him.  
  
“Yeah, babe,” Zack says. “So you rode me again on the bed, and finally came for me. And you were loud about it too, fucking announced that shit. Mmm… Of course, you were hanging over the toilet in the morning and apparently don’t remember any of this, but...” He trails off with a chuckle, before picking back up. “It was the first time I ever saw you like that during sex. I mean, we were still figuring each other out at the time—still are, I guess. I didn’t think anything of it then, except how hot it was. But now, looking back on it, it’s sorta eye-opening.”  
  
“What’s eye-opening?” Brian mumbles into his pillow, not quite following.  
  
“That, well—that the only times I ever get you like that are when you’ve had a few drinks. Or when we’ve been fighting about something—make-up sex, I guess,” Zack says, sliding his hands up Brian’s back once, then back down. “I shoulda realized a long time ago how many hang-ups you had. It was staring me right in the face.”  
  
“Don’t talk depressing,” Brian tells him, frowning. “Go back to talking sexy.”  
  
Zak chuckles, and says, “Okay.” He grabs Brian’s ass again, firm and enthusiastic, and presses his fingers into the flesh. “Mmm, do you even know what you do to me?” Zack asks, voice pitched low and sexual. “So fucking sexy. Mmm, you know something? You’re the kinda man I dreamed of when I was in high school—well, and those first years of college, hah—when I felt guilty for even thinking about another guy that way.”  
  
Brian laughs, rolling his hips along with the way Zack is massaging his buttocks. “Sure, yeah,” he mumbles.  
  
“You are,” Zack coos. “Tall, lean but well-built. Dark hair, dark eyes, tan. Tattoos…” And Brian is about to make a snide comment about how Zack apparently only appreciates him for his body, but then Zack continues, “Understanding and caring. Strong, yet sensitive. Smart and funny…”  
  
And Brian sighs, head still turned to look over his shoulder at Zack. “Zack,” he murmurs.  
  
“So sexy, babe. You turn me on, make me so hot,” Zack tells him, and then spreads his asscheeks. Brian can feel himself exposed and revealed, and it’s both erotic and a bit disconcerting. It makes Brian squirm on the bed, breath coming heavy, and he can feel Zack’s lips press against the small of his back, peppering kisses against skin. “You feel good, you hard?” Zack asks, breath warm against him.  
  
“Yeah,” Brian breathes back, flushed from both arousal and discompose. Zack makes a noise at him in reply, something between a pleased hum and a sexual moan, and pulls away from Brian’s back. Brian turns back into his pillow, closing his eyes as he thrusts absently against the mattress, just enjoying the sensation. But then Zack’s mouth is back on him, starting low, his tongue sliding up from Brian’s perineum, over his small, puckered hole, and then up…  
  
Brian gasps, pulling his knees underneath himself and popping up on instinct, body thrumming wildly. He hears Zack huff, though, pulling away, his hands sliding down from Brian’s ass to grab his thighs. “Oww,” Zack mumbles, and Brian feels guilty immediately, realizing he must have hit his lover in the face when he’d jumped up.  
  
“Shit,” Brian curses, panting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…”  
  
“S’okay,” Zack says, chuckling. “No harm done—I shoulda given you fair warning.” He pauses, stroking Brian’s thighs a few times before his hands wander back to his ass. Then, “You okay? Was _that_ okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says without hesitation, leaning back into Zack’s hands automatically as the man spreads his cheeks again. “Just surprised me is all.”  
  
“Mmm, fair warning then,” Zack says with a breathy laugh. Then the man’s lips are back on him, soft and gentle against his lower back before slowly traveling lower—down to his tailbone, then his tongue trailing leisurely down the cleft of his ass, until his mouth his hot and wet against his opening. Brian’s left panting, spreading his legs further apart, hands fisting in the sheets underneath him.  
  
Zack works his tongue in slow, languid circles around Brian’s ass, and Brian moans, unable to hold the noise back even though he tries. Zack’s mouth feels delicious, his tongue wet and wonderful, his lips warm and smooth, lip rings adding extra teasing sensations. And as Zack’s lips slide together over him, lightly sucking in a kiss, Brian cries out, caught between pushing back against Zack’s mouth and thrusting his hips forward. “Ah, Zack,” he moans, ducking his head down between his shoulders, overwhelmed.  
  
“Lie back down,” Zack pants, pulling back and breathing against Brian’s tailbone. He urges Brian back down to the bed, his hands on Brian’s hips. Brian finds himself spread back out on his belly, his cock hard underneath him, and he grinds himself against the mattress, the friction so good. “Mmm, yeah, babe,” Zack tells him, which is all Brian gets before he’s spread again, and Zack’s mouth is back on him.  
  
But that sharp, urgent heat is settling in his stomach and groin—the edge coming up on him much too fast, much too soon. He doesn’t want to come yet, doesn’t want this to be over. While Zack’s mouth feels so incredibly wonderful, he still wants more. He _wants_ Zack, wants all of him… So he stills his hips, stopping himself from rubbing against the bed, and clenches his eyes shut. And just _feels_.  
  
“Mmm, don’t stop,” Zack moans into him, and the hands keeping Brian spread apart push at his ass, encouraging him to continue rolling his hips.  
  
Brian groans, trying to resist. “No… Don’t wanna come yet. So close,” he pants back.  
  
“Go ahead, come on,” Zack breathes back, pausing to swirl his tongue around his ass. Brian whines, quiet and low. Zack continues, still pushing at Brian, “Come on. Come for me, babe. Wanna hear you.”  
  
“I want,” Brian starts, tripping over the words. “I want you. Want your cock. Please, fuck, _please…_ ”  
  
He feels Zack’s lips skate up to his tailbone, and then the man says, “Shh, you don’t have to beg. Don’t I always give you what you want?” Brian has to choke back a ragged groan at that. Zack continues, “Just come, babe, rub yourself off—you got the towel underneath you, just fuck the bed. Then you’ll come, and you’ll be all blissed-out and relaxed. All ready for me to roll you over and…”  
  
And several thoughts run through Brian’s head… _What if I become just as neurotic as last time, and am not ‘blissed-out and relaxed’…? What if I don’t get it up again while he’s fucking me…? Or what if this is actually an excellent idea and I’m just overthinking it…?_ He finally decides that it’s bound to be the last option, and so he allows Zack to push his hips back into a rhythm, and can’t help but cry out as Zack’s mouth finds its way back to his puckered opening.  
  
It becomes a rather chaotic rimjob towards at end—not because Zack doesn’t know what he’s doing, more because he’s trying to keep up with Brian’s movements against the bed. But then the edge is there, his cock and balls so heavy, and that intense heat is licking up his spine before coursing through his body and settling in his pelvis. He cries out, thrusting hard against the bed one last time and stilling on impulse, his toes curled and his hands clenching the sheets. He spends himself on the towel underneath his hips, his ejaculate sticky against his skin, before relaxing boneless against the bed with a sigh.  
  
Zack moans from behind him, wiggling his tongue against Brian’s asshole one last time and drawing a smile whine from Brian’s throat, before he pulls away with a sigh. “Mmm…” Zack murmurs at him, smoothing his hands across Brian’s lower back. “Yeah, babe, so sexy. Was that good? You feel good?”  
  
“Mmm, yeah,” Brian breathes back, the feeling of afterglow leaving him tired and momentarily satisfied. But then Zack is gently rolling him to the side, then onto his back, and Brian finds himself looking up at his lover’s lust-blown eyes and sex-flushed skin, lips wet and swollen. A sudden spark of arousal rushes through him again, making him shiver, and he touches his chest impulsively, murmuring Zack’s name.  
  
Zack smiles down at him, leaning in to lay a few lingering kisses on Brian’s stomach. He sighs as Zack’s kisses begin to trail lower, squirming weakly as Zack presses a couple kisses to his softening cock.  
  
And Brian still wants. The sweatpants Zack are still wearing leave nothing to the imagination, the thick and hard line of his erection obvious as he climbs back up Brian’s body and settles between his thighs. Brian wraps his arms around him, while Zack sucks a wet kiss into Brian’s neck. Brian hugs him tight, and tells him quietly, “I still want you. Please.”  
  
Zack moans in reply, and murmurs, “I was going to ask you if you were still, you know…” Brian nods, watching as the man reaches a hand down to push his sweats down off his hips. His cock springs free, thick and flushed, bead of precome leaking at the tip, and Brian echoes Zack’s moan, impulsively spreading his legs wider. Zack finishes wiggling his way out of his sweats, leaving him naked, and says to Brian, “Can you reach the nightstand? Get the lube?”  
  
Brian flails his hand out without looking, knocking the alarm clock of the nightstand in the process. It makes him laugh at himself, at his clumsiness, and so he take a moment to roll to the side and fish it out of the drawer.  
  
Zack laughs as well, and as he takes the bottle from Brian, murmurs, “Relax. We got all night.”  
  
And Brian supposes they do. At least, he only has afternoon classes on Fridays, and he doesn’t work the next morning, so he’ll have plenty of time to sleep in. As long as… “Do you have tomorrow off?” he asks Zack.  
  
“Yeah,” Zack answers, already opening the bottle of lubricant and slicking his fingers. “Got tomorrow and Saturday off.”  
  
“Nice,” Brian answers, hiking his legs up higher around Zack as the man presses his fingers against him, circling the ring of muscle once, twice, before gently pressing inside. It makes Brian gasp, spreading his legs wider for his lover, and murmurs Zack’s name as the man begins to finger him open and stretch him. And maybe it’s due to the comfortable pleasure still humming through him after orgasm, Brian doesn’t know, but his body feels pliant, completely relaxed. He takes Zack’s two, then three fingers with ease, unable to keep the quiet noises from falling from his lips.  
  
But then Zack is removing his fingers, rubbing his fingertips against Brian’s hole before reaching for the lube again. Zack slicks himself up before he settles in between Brian’s thighs, kneeling, and pulls Brian’s hips up to himself. He holds Brian’s legs back by his thighs, and rubs his cockhead against Brian’s ass, teasing. It makes Brian flex himself without thinking, and Zack moans, says, “I’m gonna fuck you now.”  
  
 _Captain Obvious,_ Brian gets ready to say, but then Zack is sinking in, his green eyes watching where their bodies meet, his grip tightening on Brian’s thighs… And Brian can’t say anything, can only release a shaky breath. Zack bottoms out, his hips held snug up against Brian’s ass, before starting up a rhythm—long, slow, deep thrusts, seemingly Zack’s ‘go-to’ as far as Brian has figured out, and how Brian prefers to be fucked anyway.  
  
And Brian feels so full, Zack’s cock thick and heavy and pressing against his insides. It’s making him pant, making him arc his back into Zack’s thrusts to enhance the sensation, and drive his cock deeper. And on top of all that, Brian can feel stress on his bladder every time Zack thrusts into him—he realizes suddenly that he hadn’t relieved himself when he’d come home from work, just eaten then laid down with Zack. He needs pee, not urgently so, but his bladder is full enough that it’s putting extra pressure against his prostate, and just adding to the overall feeling of being fucked, stretched, and filled up.  
  
Zack leans down over him, splaying his arms on either side of Brian’s body to prop himself up, and presses his lips against Brian’s neck. “God, you feel amazing,” Zack moans. “Fuck, I’m so—unh—so close.”  
  
Brian groans back, squeezing his thighs around Zack’s middle, and breathes, “Yeah… Please, yeah, come on.”  
  
Zack curses, thrusting harder into him before stilling with a long, deep groan, his face twisted in pleasure. Brian strokes his hands over the man’s back and presses open-mouthed kisses to his cheek, whines low as Zack thrusts weakly through the last few waves of his orgasm. And then it’s quiet, tranquil, just the sounds of their breathing and the music still playing softly in the background.  
  
Zack sighs contentedly and pulls out after a moment, lying down next to him on the bed with a hand spread out on Brian’s chest. It leaves Brian to stare at the ceiling and start thinking—something that usually never ends well for him nowadays. “I’m sorry,” he finds himself blurting after a moment.  
  
Zack groans—though not the good sort of groans from minutes earlier. “Why the fuck…?”  
  
“I didn’t get hard,” Brian answers, still staring at the ceiling.  
  
“What…? You came all over the bed,” Zack says, voice still husky with sex, and drags his hand gently across Brian’s skin. “What’re you talking about?”  
  
“I didn’t—not while you were fucking me,” Brian says, feeling himself blushing.  
  
Zack groans in frustration again, and then rolls toward him in the bed, says, “Babe, give it a break. You were so good—you were wonderful, is that what you need to hear?”  
  
“Don’t patronize me, please,” Brian mumbles, though the voice in the back of Brian’s head is saying, _Yeah, a little praise would go a long way…_  
  
“I’m not—you were wonderful. Always are,” Zack tells him, nosing at his cheek. “Give yourself a break for once.”  
  
“Yeah, okay,” Brian sighs back, then says the only other thing that comes to mind. “Love you.”  
  
And Zack smiles back at him, bright as the sun, fingertips still playing over his chest. “I love you, too, babe...”


	14. Part 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~Early December finds Brian slammed, finishing last minute assignments for his classes and studying for finals, too busy to be worried. Or at least, too busy to be worried about anything besides his exams and his grades.~

Early December finds Brian slammed, finishing last minute assignments for his classes and studying for finals, too busy to be worried. Or at least, too busy to be worried about anything besides his exams and his grades. He’s so close to graduating, only a year and a half now, and he’s simply waiting for the moment when he’s going to fuck things up.  
  
Zack writes him a prescription for something. Mild anti-anxiety medicine he says to Brian, no, _repeats_ to Brian about twenty fucking times. Brian smiles, nods, promises to start taking it—and then shoves it in the medicine cabinet never to touch it again. Some things never change.  
  
As it turns out, _most_ things don’t change. Brian has been doing well, at least for a couple of weeks, long enough to lull him into a false sense of security. But he’s been feeling better, only anxious about his exams, something he tells himself is normal. And he’s been eating better, sleeping better, feeling healthy, content.  
  
And he’s been able to talk to Zack. Smile and laugh with Zack. Curl up next to the man, take comfort in him, and much to Brian’s relief, continue to go to bed with him.  
  
Then, a week before exams, he jolts out of a deep sleep in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, his heart pounding, his mouth dry… There are hands on him that may be real or may be remnants of a dream, and he grabs at them, grabs at the hands on his shoulder and chest in a panic, crying out. He looks to his side to find worried green eyes watching him, and he knows it’s Zack. He _knows_. Still, he grabs the man’s hands and throws him away, too claustrophobic and scared to think straight, and watches as Zack falls back onto his side of the bed.  
  
And so he finds himself sitting in the middle of the bed, watching as Zack pushes himself back up on his elbows, then up to sit. “Fuck,” Brian murmurs, wringing his hands together. “Fuck, fuck, fuck… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—“  
  
“It’s okay,” Zack tells him, placating, his hands held out toward Brian, palms up. “You’re okay. You were having a nightmare. That’s all, just a nightmare.”  
  
And he was. Brian can remember bits and pieces now—an old nightmare, one he hasn’t has in years, since before Zack. But that’s not an excuse. “I-I know,” he answers. “But I still shouldn’t have—shouldn’t have shoved you.”  
  
“It’s alright, babe,” Zack says gently. He slowly, cautiously closes the distance to hold onto one of Brian’s hands. Then, “You didn’t hurt me. You were just scared. Everything’s okay.”  
  
But Brian is still shaking, wired—haunted by the dream, guilty over his actions, and emasculated by his weaknesses. He stands from the bed, pulling away from Zack in the process, and mutters, “Still shouldn’t’ve…”  
  
“Brian, it’s okay,” Zack says, standing as well. “Come sit back down.”  
  
Brian can’t, though. He can’t sit, can’t stay, just can’t… “I need to get out of here. Just. Need to walk.”  
  
“Okay,” Zack says from behind him, tone still worried, as Brian leaves the bedroom. He doesn’t think to put shoes on, much less a jacket to throw over his t-shirt. He just walks to the front door, Ichy trotting behind him in interest—then wrenches the front door open and steps outside. The winter, nighttime cold is bracing, and he wraps his arms around himself, rubbing at his bare arms. He suddenly wishes he’d grabbed that jacket, but not as much as he wishes he’d grabbed his cigarettes and lighter.  
  
He paces in front of the front door for what could be a few seconds, or a few minutes, or a few hours—Brian doesn’t know. As cold as he is, it’s better being outside. He feels he can breathe here, feels his heart slowing and his frayed nerves beginning to quiet—even though the dream is beginning to come back to him more clearly now. Not vividly, but it’s a dream he used to have so often he can remember all of it in plenty enough detail. Why it suddenly came back to him now, why his subconscious dragged it back up? Brian has no idea.  
  
But then the door to their apartment is opening up behind him, and Zack is stepping out, a sweatshirt pulled on over his bare chest and too-long pajama bottoms dragging the ground. He gives Brian a soft, sad little smile, and holds out a hoodie in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. “Here,” he says. “It’s chamomile tea. You like chamomile tea.”  
  
Brian nods, not trusting himself to speak yet. He takes the hoodie first, putting it on and pulling it tight around himself, then takes the cup of tea from Zack with shaky hands. “Thank you,” he manages quietly after a moment, then takes a sip. It’s warm, and soothing.  
  
“You’re more than welcome,” Zack tells him, giving him another soft sweet smile. Then, “You okay?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says. “Yeah, I feel…better.”  
  
“Good,” Zack says. Then, “Do you want to talk about it?”  
  
“No. Not really,” Brian answers, shrugging. He takes another sip of his tea, eyes to the ground and away from Zack.  
  
“You were calling out for help while you were dreaming,” Zack says after a moment, tone a bit stubborn. And this makes complete sense, considering, but still Brian shakes his head ‘no’. Zack sighs softly, disappointed, and asks, “Do you think you can go inside? It’s pretty fucking cold out here.”  
  
Brian chuckles, and answers, “Yeah. It’s cold—let’s go back inside.”  
  
So Zack ushers them back through the front door, and Brian makes a beeline back to the bedroom, then to the bathroom. He sets his teacup down on the bathroom counter and turns the sink on—bends down over the drain and splashes water on his face, trying to clear his mind. He can hear Zack’s quiet, padding footfalls on the carpet in the bedroom, then louder on the tile in the bathroom, and Brian looks over as the man leans up against the counter, watching Brian in concern.  
  
Brian sighs, and repeats, “I’m okay, Zack.”  
  
“You sure?” Zack asks. Then, “You sure you don’t want to talk?”  
  
Brian groans, rubbing his hands over his face, and says, “I really don’t, Zack. I’m sorry—and I’m sorry I hit you in the bed, I…”  
  
“Babe, you didn’t hit me. You just, well…just pushed me away.” A sigh. “You were still half-asleep and dreaming, and I think I scared you more putting my hands on you like that. Well, obviously I did…scare you more, that is,” Zack says, trailing off. He reaches out then, tentative, and touches Brian’s shoulder. Gentle at first, then closing his hand to squeeze comfortingly. He continues, “You’re not a violent man. I’m not in the least bit concerned you’ll do anything to me, you know that.”  
  
Brian nods, once again not trusting himself to speak, Zack’s words touching something inside him. He reaches out and shuts off the sink, still leaning over the counter, and he feels Zack’s hand move from his shoulder to his back, rubbing slow circles.  
  
“Will you at least do something for me?” Zack asks, setting Brian on edge. But then Zack is continuing, “Take one of those pills that you haven’t been taking—yes, I know they’re sitting in there collecting dust, I’m not stupid. But at least take one now. And lie down and rest.”  
  
And Brian is about to argue, refuse, but Zack looks so worried, pleading. So he nods, reaching past Zack to the medicine cabinet. Zack backs up, allowing him room, and Brian grabs the pill bottle, pulling it open and shaking one out into his hand. He swallows the tablet with a sip of his tea—a decision a regrets as the liquid burns his throat. He coughs, then laughs, and finally eases past Zack back into the bedroom, cup of tea left behind on the bathroom counter.  
  
He’s unsure what he wants to do now—a bit afraid to lie back down and go to sleep, afraid he’ll fall into that old nightmare again. But with no other distractions immediately apparent, he shrugs out of his hoodie and collapses back into the bed. He stares up at the ceiling, listening as Zack pulls his sweatshirt over his head then picks up Ichabod from the floor at his feet, setting him down on the bed. The pup trots across the bed over to Brian as Zack slides into bed.  
  
Brian picks up Ichy and sits him down on his chest, petting his soft fur. He meets Zack’s gaze after a moment, aware the man is staring, and forces himself to give a weak smile. “I’m okay,” he tells Zack. “I mean, I don’t feel much different than before—before I took that pill. But…”  
  
Zack chuckles, and says, “You’re not going to feel different right away. You may not feel different at all, really. Not consciously, at least.”  
  
Brian nods, closing his eyes, just breathing—he’s not looking, not prepared for Zack to reach out and touch his shoulder. And he flinches, the remnants of the dream still there and lingering, then curses at himself. Zack pulls away for a moment before trying to touch him again, his hand sliding gentle over Brian’s shirt. “I’m sorry,” Brian apologizes.  
  
“Don’t,” Zack says. But then, “I wish you would talk to me…We’ve been doing so much better with that.”  
  
And they have, Brian knows. They’ve had a couple of good, long, deep talks with each other—the sort of conversations they simply didn’t engage in before. But still… “It was nothing. Just a dream, you know? One I hadn’t had in a long time, but… Still just a dream.”  
  
Zack’s quiet for a moment, softly playing with Brian’s t-shirt, before asking, “Not in a long time… Was it about your parents?”  
  
Brian huffs out a laugh, gently messing around with Ichabod’s ears, and counters, “Are you gonna try to play twenty questions until you figure it out?”  
  
“If I have to,” Zack says, tone tinged with humor.  
  
Brian rolls his eyes. “You’re ridiculous,” he says, but follows it up with, “No, not my parents. Just an old nightmare—about something that happened before, while I was on the streets. Used to have that nightmare all the fucking time, remembering it…”  
  
“Tell me,” Zack says quietly. Brian looks over at him, meets those sweet green eyes, and feels something give.  
  
Still, one last refusal. “It was nothing.”  
  
“Babe, you were crying for help,” Zack murmurs. “I realize you were asleep, but… Do you even know what that does to me?”  
  
“It was nothing,” he says one last time. But then, “I was a lot younger, and had just really started working on the streets. For real started. And this guy takes me back to the motel. He had some liquor on him, and poured me some. And I was too young and stupid to know better. I didn’t even watch him pour it, just took it from him, all happy he was giving me alcohol…”  
  
Zack doesn’t say anything, but Brian can tell by the look on his face that he knows where this is all going. Ichabod lies down on Brian’s chest, curling up to sleep. It’s oddly comforting amidst the turmoil of everything else he is feeling.  
  
“…I dunno what he gave me, you know, had mixed in it—and I don’t remember everything. I mean, I was in and out the entire time. I was tied to the bed, I remember that because I woke up that way. And I think there was more than one guy there, like a gangbang—though that might have been the drugs. I might have just been confused, I don’t even know. I just remember not being able to move, and asking them to stop, and hearing them laughing at me...”  
  
Zack’s still quiet, though his hand finds its way to Brian’s cheek, stroking softly. Brian leans into it, closing his eyes.  
  
“…That’s the only time I ever went to the actual hospital. Someone from the motel found me passed out in the morning and called 911. I guess I was in pretty bad shape. I remember there being blood, and them all wanting to do an evidence kit or whatever at the hospital…”  
  
“Did you let them?” Zack asks, though the tone of his voice is defeated. He already knows the answer.  
  
“No. I just wanted to leave. I was freaked out and embarrassed and everything hurt like hell— _that_ much I remember. So they patched me up best they could and I left,” he says, then chuckles disparagingly. “I guess I should be glad I don’t remember most of it. That’s probably a fucking blessing in disguise.”  
  
Zack hums in reply, his hand snaking around the back of Brian’s neck to bring their foreheads together, until they’re leaning against one another.  
  
And Brian is finished. He’s told Zack what Zack wanted to know. So he doesn’t know why he continues. “And I never took anything from anyone after that. No drinks, no drugs, no nothing. Until you come along, all doctor, and hand me a fistful of pills. And I just swallowed them down, I don’t even know. I guess that says a lot…” He pauses, thinking back on the beginning, when he’d first met Zack. Then, “Or, you know, I really just didn’t care at that point. I mean, I was exhausted, I felt like shit, hell, I’d just been fucking raped. I figured, how much worse could it really get?”  
  
Zack’s quiet for a moment, thumb softly stroking the feathery hairs at the base of Brian’s skull, before he speaks up, “That’s the first time I’ve ever heard you say that, call it that. Actually admited that you’ve been raped.”  
  
And shit, he did. He laughs, self-derogatory, and says, “Oops, sorry. I try _not_ to bring that up so you don’t have to be reminded you’re living with, you know... A pussy with a small prick.”  
  
Zack seems shocked into silence by that for a moment, his hand stilling its petting on Brian’s neck, before he pulls away to look at Brian sternly. “You’re not any less of a man for what you’ve been through,” Zack tells him with a frown, tone firm. “No one feels that way. At least no one that matters. So please don’t say that.”  
  
Brian shakes his head, rolling his eyes. Zack sighs, he fingers trailing from Brian’s neck to his collarbone. A heavy silence settles, and Brian fidgets momentarily before grabbing Ichabod up from his chest and setting him down on the bed.  
  
“Does it bother you…?” Zack speaks up suddenly. “Does it bother you when we fool around while we’re drunk?”  
  
“Uh,” Brian says, never having even considered this before. “I dunno, should it? It probably should…”  
  
“It’s not a matter of whether it _should_. I just want to know whether it does or not,” Zack counters. Then, when Brian doesn’t answer, “I mean, you usually want to when you’ve had a few. And I have a _really_ hard time turning you down... But if you feel like shit after, well, I don’t want that.”  
  
“No, it doesn’t bother me,” Brian decides. “It’s weird, I dunno—some things that probably should bother me, don’t, and then some things that shouldn’t bother me at all, do. I’m sorry. I’m still trying, I promise.”  
  
“Don’t apologize. Fuck, _stop_ apologizing—you’ve been doing so much better. _We’ve_ been doing so much better,” Zack says, then leans forward to kiss his cheek. Brian finds himself smiling gently. Zack continues, “I mean, look at us right now. Talking like this—you opening up to me. You letting me comfort you…”  
  
Brian closes his eyes, feels his lover’s lips on his temple. He reaches over until he finds Zack’s hand, and laces their fingers together.  
  
“And because I know it’s on the back of your mind,” Zack adds, lips curving up into a smile against Brian’s skin. “Our sex life’s been pretty damn good these past couple of weeks, too.”  
  
Brian hums, and comments, “Not as often as we used to.”  
  
“Quality over quantity,” Zack says with a chuckle.  
  
Brian supposes he’s right, though at the same time it makes him murmur quietly, self-conscious, “I know I haven’t, uh…” He hopes Zack will understand where he’s going with this, considering the conversation topic, but the man just raises his eyebrows, confused. Brian sighs, rolling his eyes, and tries again, “I haven’t, well…”  
  
And Brian can’t figure out what he wants to call it, so he just jerks his hand crudely in front of his mouth and sticks his tongue in his cheek. Zack pulls away from him to look, then starts giggling when he sees what Brian is pantomiming. “Babe,” Zack says through his laughter, grabbing up Brian’s busy hand and pulling it away from his face.  
  
And yeah, Brian hasn’t gone down on Zack yet, not since that night in the coffee shop, not since that john had forced himself on him. Or at least, not since a couple of months ago, not since he’d _tried_ with Zack and ended up panicking and getting sick. Sure, Zack’s gone down on him several times, but Brian had always given him something else, too afraid to go down that road again. So really… “I guess some things that should bother me, well… Do bother me,” Brian says dryly.  
  
“I’d sort of figured that was why you hadn’t returned _that_ particular favor,” Zack says with a sad grin. Then, “Don’t worry about it. Whenever you feel like trying again—or even if you never feel like it, that’s ok too.”  
  
“I don’t deserve you,” Brian say simply, heart beating so hard at Zack’s soft words.  
  
“You know that’s not true, so don’t say it,” Zack counters. Then, after a beat of silence, “I love you so much, you know that?”  
  
Brian nods, because he does know. He truly does. And he leans over to finds the other man’s lips to kiss. “I love you too,” he returns quietly, once he pulls away. “Thank you. For being here for me.”  
  
“Always,” Zack answers. “Always.”  
  
~*~  
  
“You ready for Christmas?” Ellie asks him the Monday morning after exams.  
  
Brian pauses from where he’s pouring coffee beans into the espresso machine, and laughs. “Not at all, you?”  
  
She laughs, shaking her head negative. “I’ve still got so much shopping to do,” she says. “And I’m supposed to be going down to my parents. I still need to get plane tickets.”  
  
“I’m staying here, at least,” Brian tells her. “But I’ve still got shopping to do, too. I think Zack’s bought most of the presents for our friends already, but I swear, I’ve got nothing for him.”  
  
And Zack is both easy and hard to buy for, Brian has realized in their time together. There are a lot of simple, go-to things that Brian can always get him, and that Brian always does get him. New scrubs for work—those he’ll have to order online—but he knows now what brand the man prefers, and what his favorite colors and patterns are, and Lord knows Zack ruins enough of them that he is always needing more. And new plain, soft t-shirts to wear under his scrubs—he seems to ruin those t-shirts faster than he ruins his actual scrubs, though Brian doesn’t know how. Some new underwear, and a new bottle of cologne, and then something sweet is always a winner, some chocolate or caramels, Zack loves those.  
  
But finding him something different and really _nice_ is near impossible. Zack never asks for anything outright, doesn’t even hint at anything, which Brian fucking wishes he would. And as it is, Zack buys almost everything he needs and wants himself, right fucking then and there. New Xbox game coming out that he wants? Zack has it preordered. Hell, the new gaming console that he wants, he has _that_ fucking preordered. If anything breaks or stops working—appliances, cell phones, computers—it is replaced immediately without any thought to cost. Brian sometimes wonders exactly how much money the man is actually sitting on…  
  
“You guys do joint-gifting?” Ellie asks from the register where she’s preparing to open, interrupting his thoughts.  
  
“Uh, yeah,” he answers, suddenly wondering if that isn’t normal.  
  
She speaks up again, though. “Aww, you guys must have been together for a while then,” she says.  
  
And he realizes, once again, that he doesn’t ever really talk about Zack, or their relationship. In fact, Ellie wouldn’t even know about Zack had Brian not had a panic attack that one night at work, and had Zack not come that night to stay with him. It’s not that he isn’t open about their relationship, but it is _their_ relationship. It’s something personal and private to Brian, and something he doesn’t feel the need to share with everyone he meets. Still, he tells Ellie, “Been together a few years, yeah.”  
  
“A few _years_?” she repeats, sounding impressed. “Wow, the longest relationship I’ve had was about eight months…and I swear, I couldn’t stand the sight of him by the end.”  
  
Brian can’t help but laugh at that. “Well, we’ve had our ups and downs,” he tells her, surprising himself with his own honesty. “I guess it’s about finding the right person.”  
  
She hums in acknowledgement. Then asks, “How’d you both meet? He was in scrubs when he came in here that night—does he work at the hospital? Or teach at the college or something?”  
  
And he’s about to open his mouth to give her the usual lie. ‘Met him at the clinic when I’d gotten mugged.’ But fuck, he lies so much—he lies to himself, he lies to others—and on top of that, the people who matter all already know about his past and his secret. And so Brian finds himself debating what to say, before finally just spitting out, “I used to be a, uh, a sex worker. And Zack was a client, for a while—and then…”  
  
He trails off, aware that she’s paused in her work and is staring at him. “You mean…?” she starts after a beat of silence. “You mean like a stripper—like Magic Mike?”  
  
That makes Brian bark out a surprised laugh. “No, uhm, a little more hands-on than that,” he tells her.  
  
“Oh,” she says. Then, “And Zack was a _client_? That’s like the plot from Pretty Woman. Are you playing me? Or…”  
  
He can’t help but laugh again, and shakes his head, negative. “Nah, ‘fraid not.”  
  
“Wow. You should, like, write a book or something. Call it…” she trails off, biting her lip. “Well, I can’t think of what to call it. But you could totally write a book.”  
  
Brian chuckles, and answers, “I dunno, maybe a will.” She grins back at him, and yeah, Brian feels awkward revealing this to someone other than his close circle of friends. But it hasn’t been as bad as he was expecting.  
  
Ellie closes the register and checks the clock—five minutes to open. She leans against the counter and eyes him speculatively. “Do you still…?” she asks eventually, trailing off, then shakes her head. “I’m sorry, that’s probably a stupid question.”  
  
 _Yeah, it is,_ Brian thinks idly, but still answers, “No, Zack’s the only one allowed to, you know… Handle the merchandise.”  
  
She giggles at him, blushing a bit, and Brian’s silently glad he’s not the only one with a penchant to blush at that topic. She takes a breath, then starts, “My sister knows a girl, who knows a girl—one of those situations.” She grins at him, then continues, “I guess the girl’s an escort? Like, gets paid bunches of money to spend her evenings with whatever man wants her. They take her to fancy dinners and buy her nice clothes—and they sleep with her, too, I guess… It’s like paying for a girlfriend, it’s so weird. But apparently, like I said, she gets paid a ton of money, so I dunno. I guess if you’re comfortable with that…”  
  
And she’s trying to tell him in her own way that she doesn’t judge him for what he did, Brian can tell, but he shakes his head, interrupts her, “I wasn’t an escort, I was…” And he doesn’t want to say it— _hooker, prostitute, whore_ —the girl has always seemed so innocent and sweet, and he feels like just saying the word will inherently sully her good nature. So he just says, “It’s not a, uhm, not a career choice I’d recommend for anyone.”  
  
She doesn’t meet his eyes, but nods nonetheless like she understands. A glance at the clock on the wall, and she tells him, “Time to open up.”  
  
And he worries he’s upset her as she steps past him to let herself out from behind the counter. But he feels her hand between his shoulderblades as she glides by, soft and gentle, and then she’s headed for the front door. Unlocking and flipping the sign from ‘Closed’ to ‘Open’. And Brian somehow knows that everything is okay.  
  
~*~  
  
Brian’s shift ends at three, and he has long-delayed plans of going to mall and finishing up his Christmas shopping. So that evening finds him wandering the mall, a few bags of odds and ends already purchased and in hand, staring at the storefronts hoping to have an epiphany. And it’s as he’s wandering by the bookstore that a familiar face steps out from inside, a Barnes n’ Noble bag her hand. Lacey smiles wide at him, rearranging her purchases to extend an arm for a hug. “Brian!” she says, glancing down at his bags. “You finishing up your Christmas shopping?”  
  
“Nah, just starting my shopping,” Brian tells her, chuckling, leaning down to hug her back. “Otherwise, I’d be home. Just finished exams last week—I’m so done.”  
  
“Aww,” Lacey says, petting his shoulder fondly. “You looking for anything in particular?”  
  
And maybe she’ll have some ideas. “Something for Zack. Like, something _nice_ … He’s fucking hard to buy for.”  
  
“Jewelry?” she pipes up with immediately. “Doesn’t he wear, you know?” She makes a motion to her ears, where her own earrings are.  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says. “But I swear, he never changes anything he wears. He wears the same pair of studs every day that I got him two years ago. And he’s worn that one, same ring on his right hand since I’ve known him. And same thing with the necklace and the lip rings—same ones since I met him.”  
  
“Well, maybe it’s time you got him something new,” she says, shrugging. “We can at least go down and look, maybe you’ll see something.”  
  
“Sure, I guess,” he answers, and so he allows himself to be drug down to the nearest jewelry store.  
  
He starts looking over the selection of earrings at first, silently glad the store clerk is busy with another customer and doesn’t come over to bother him. Lacey stays by Brian’s side, peering in at the earrings and studs as well.  
  
“How’re you both doing?” Lacey asks eventually, quiet and discreet. “Are you both still doing better? You feeling better?”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says truthfully, nodding. “Yeah, definitely.”  
  
Lacey smiles, continuing to look in at the earrings. “And you’ve been continuing to communicate with each other?”  
  
“Oh, is that what we’re calling it now?” Brian whispers, feeling himself blushing. All he can think about suddenly is a couple of nights ago, the night after Brian’s last final exam, when Zack had taken him out to dinner and then pulled out that damn ‘Tantric Sex’ pamphlet afterward, once they’d gotten home. Told Brian he wanted to fuck in the position they’d been in that night Brian had let him make love to him again, finally—and Brian had had no clue what the other man had meant. At least, not until Zack had pulled Brian into his lap on the bed and started kissing him, so passionate, lips wandering away across Brian’s cheek and jaw until Brian would pull him back to him mouth. Then Brian remembered, remembered sitting on Zack’s cock’s that night, face to face with the man, so nervous but so desperate at the same time, clinging tight to him.  
  
But it was different this time. Brian wasn’t nervous, or agitated, or frustrated—and Zack was so sweet and sexy, praising Brian for being so trusting, praising his every gasp and moan of pleasure, praising him for giving himself to Zack and letting Zack make him feel good… And God, the whole thing was so physically and mentally satisfying, Brian couldn’t wipe the stupid smile off his face for the whole of the next day.  
  
But then Lacey is glancing over at him, eyebrow raised. “I was referring to actual communication. Talking to each other,” she says. “But that other thing was going to be my next question.”  
  
Brian sighs quietly. “Yes,” he answers. “Yes, to both.”  
  
And they have been talking, probably more than they ever have in the past. And maybe Zack is just as fucking crazy as he is… Brian can still clearly remember what the man had told him just a few day earlier.  
  
 _”I know you always complain about my hovering—you bitch about me ‘mothering’ you sometimes. Which, by the way, wrong gender choice of words. At least have the decency to say I’m ‘fathering’ you…I guess that sounds weird.” An awkward laugh, and green eyes staring at the carpet. “But I swear, I can’t help it—and I don’t mean to imply anything. I think that’s why it bothers you, isn’t it? Because you think I feel some certain way that I actually don’t, or you feel emasculated or something? I dunno…” A sigh before he continues.  
  
“I just have this ridiculous _thing _. This, like, crazy need. To protect you, and care for you. And I dunno why—you’re a grown ass man, I know you can take care of yourself. But it’s still almost overwhelming at times, I can’t explain it. It’s been like this since the very beginning, since you came to me at the clinic all beaten up, broken. And I felt for you, I felt for you_ so hard _—I just wanted to make everything better, make all your pain go away. All of it, not just what I could see on the outside… And I swear to God, the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more I’ve seen and learned, the more intense that need has gotten. It’s like—all I need is just for you to be happy, and healthy, and to have everything be_ okay _…”_  
  
To say the sex that night had been incredible would be an understatement.  
  
“That’s so good, Brian,” Lacey says quietly. “You’ve come a long way since we first started talking. I hope you realize that.”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian says nodding. He begins to wander away from the earrings, over to the actual rings—some plain silver and gold bands, others more decorated. He’s looking, but he’s not really seeing, more thinking about Zack and their relationship than about buying jewelry now. “He started me on this medication. Anti-anxiety, he said,” Brian says, glancing back to where Lacey is following him, looking in at the jewelry.  
  
“Yeah?” she asks. “You know the name of it?”  
  
“Uh, Visal? Visaril?” he tries, not quite sure. He should probably pay more attention.  
  
“Vistaril?” she half-corrects, half-questions, and Brian nods because yeah, that’s what Zack had called it. “Hmm, good choice. Can you tell any difference? Have you been taking it regularly?”  
  
“Well, I wasn’t taking it at first, but I have been for the past couple of weeks,” Brian tells her. “I can’t really tell a difference, but I’ve been doing good, so… I dunno, maybe it is helping and I just don’t realize it.”  
  
Lacey nods at him. “Yeah, there’s no miracle drug. Nothing you take is going to make all your problems go away,” she comments. Brian nods, because yeah, he gets that. She continues, “But taking a medicine like that can help you help yourself, so to speak. It makes those stressors that affect you seem less grave, and helps you approach life with a little more stability—I’m sure you’ve seen the commercials.”  
  
Brian hums in agreement. “Maybe it is helping then,” he says. “I mean, I just got through exams alright. Didn’t have any sort of spaz-attack. And I’ve been sleeping better at night.”  
  
She smiles at him, and tells says, “Keep taking it then. Regularly. Don’t skip doses.”  
  
“Okay,” he answers, sighing down into the displays. Then, changing the subject, “I swear, I don’t know what to get him.”  
  
“You could do something for him,” Lacey suggests. “It’s not always about the material objects—sometimes it’s about giving something more.”  
  
“That’s a cop-out,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Seriously, what am I going to get him?”  
  
“Offer to do something you haven’t done in a while,” she tells him, and Brian’s mind immediately turns dirty. Though she plows on, apparently not having meant it that way. “Take him away for a day, just a day for yourselves. Or write a personal letter to him…”  
  
“I live with the man, and you want me to write him a letter?” Brian asks with a scoff.  
  
“You have nothing you could say in a letter to him? Really?” he counters, one thin eyebrow raised. “You’re so open and honest, there’s nothing else you could possible tell him about? Nothing you could write to him?”  
  
“Humppf. Maybe,” Brian grunts, grabbing a plain silver necklace and looking it over. “I dunno. Maybe you’re right.”  
  
~*~  
  
Brian’s just made it home, let the Ichy out to pee, and is hiding his purchases in the back of their closet when he hears Zack come in through the front door. He’s feeling good, pleased with himself for getting most of his Christmas shopping done and out of the way, happy after his talk with Lacey, and he finds himself smiling at his lover’s presence in their home. “Don’t come in here, yet!” he calls out to Zack. “I’ve been Christmas shopping, and I’m hiding presents!”  
  
Zack doesn’t answer, is quiet for long enough that Brian starts to become concerned. In fact, he almost leaves the remaining presents sitting at the foot of the bed and goes out into the living room, goes to see if Zack is okay. But then Zack is answering back with a simple, “Okay.”  
  
His voice is off—Brian knows him well enough to hear it, but he can’t quite figure out the tone. He’s not quite right, though whether he’s sad, or angry, or just tired and not feeling well, Brian can’t tell. So Brian finishes up hiding the presents as quickly as he can, closes the closet door, and then heads out into the living room.  
  
He finds Zack leaning back against the counter in the kitchenette, a glass of water in one hand and Ichabod cradled to his chest with the other. He’s staring blankly at the kitchen sink as if lost in thought, and Brian frowns, stepping closer. “Hey,” he says, causing Zack to glance over at him and give him a weak smile. “What’s up?”  
  
“Ah, nothing,” Zack says, giving Ichy a quick kiss on the top of his furry head before setting the pup down on the floor. Brian watches him dubiously as the man wanders across the kitchen to the sink, taking a few drinks from his glass of water. Yeah, something is _definitely_ up.  
  
“I haven’t eaten yet. I was gonna put something in the oven. I think we’ve got some frozen casseroles,” Brian says, heading for the freezer. “Unless you’d rather order take-out…” When Zack doesn’t answer, Brian glances back to finds the man’s hands braced against the counter, his head ducked down between his shoulders, the glass of water forgotten about in the sink. It’s alarming, and Brian frowns, moving over to him. “Zack? What’s wrong? Are you sick?”  
  
Zack chuckles, though it’s without humor. “No,” he answers. “I’m fine.”  
  
“You’re obviously not fine,” Brian says, snaking his arms around him, around his soft belly, hugging him from behind. And he comes to the next immediate conclusion, “Did I--? I’m sorry… Did I do something wrong?”  
  
Zack laughs, almost hysterical, and leans his head back against Brian’s shoulder. “Would you fucking not apologize for everything?” he grates out, voice a bit harsher than Brian would like. “No, you haven’t done a damn thing. I haven’t even seen you since this morning.”  
  
“Then what…?” Brian says, trailing off as Zack turns in his arms, burying his face in the curve of Brian’s neck. A shudder runs through his body, quick but harsh, and his shoulders shake once, then twice. He’s trying not to cry, Brian realizes, and his heart breaks for the man. “Then what’s wrong?” he finishes, softly rubbing Zack’s back.  
  
Zack breathes out once against the side of Brian’s neck, hot and wet, before he speaks. The words are muffled against Brian’s skin, but Brian can still make them out. “They brought in this kid this evening. He was OD’d on something, I don’t even know what. We did CPR and shocked him, got him back around, called the ambulance to get him to the hospital…”  
  
And Brian already knows where this story is going. They’ve been through this before, it always affects Zack, though usually not to this degree. A hug, a kiss, and an ‘I love you’, and everything is better again. But now…  
  
“But he crashed again before the ambulance got there. We did everything again—CPR, we shocked his heart, everything—but we never got him back. He fucking died right there, right there in front of me…”  
  
“I’m so sorry,” Brian tells him quietly.  
  
“It’s not your fault!” Zack practically howls, causing Brian to flinch. But then Zack grabs him tighter, holding him closer. “He looked like you,” he blurts abruptly, voice still muffled into the curve of Brian’s neck. “Fuck, he looked _so much_ like you…”  
  
And suddenly, it all makes sense. “Zack…” Brian murmurs, searching for the right words.  
  
“He did,” Zack says, voice wheezing. “So much. I mean, he was younger. Like eighteen or nineteen, maybe twenty. But fuck, he could have _been_ a younger you… I had to call time of death on him, watched them take him out to go to the morgue.”  
  
“I’m right here, Zack,” Brian says, gently rubbing his back. “Right here.”  
  
Zack breathes out wet against the side of his neck, before breathing back in deep. “I know. I know, I--,” Zack says quietly, trailing off. Brian feels the man’s lips slide against the skin of his neck, opening slightly in a kiss, before he’s exhaling again. “Promise me—promise me you won’t ever… I’m going to take all those pills I have and flush them down the toilet.”  
  
And oh, _oh…_ “Zack, I—don’t worry. Don’t worry about me,” Brian says, cradling him closer. “I promise. I promise, I won’t ever do that.”  
  
“You said once,” Zack mutters, still gripping him tightly. “You were upset, and you said you were going to take that bottle of Xanax. I can’t have you do that—I _can’t_!”  
  
“Zack, I—“ Brian says, not remembering ever having said this even if he can remember thinking it on occasion. “I won’t, I promise. Please don’t worry. You worry about me so much—too much.”  
  
“I can’t help it. I can’t fucking help it,” Zack murmurs quietly, his lips trailing up along the column of Brian’s neck to his jawline. He kisses him there, his lips gentle against his skin. Then, “Let me…can we make love? Please.”  
  
That brings Brian up short. Zack hasn’t asked him outright since they’ve been sexually active again—he usually just hints playfully and sensually to let Brian know he’s in the mood, but then waits for Brian to actually initiate. Brian feels pressured for a moment, not wanting to let Zack down, scared about what to say or do in reply.  
  
But then Zack is mumbling something to himself, shaking his head. He speaks up after a moment, says, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. You’ve been going through so much—and I definitely shouldn’t have just asked you to…”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian decides then, voice quiet but firm. “Yeah, whatever you want.”  
  
“I don’t want you to just—I don’t want you to feel like,” Zack says, even as his lips are trailing down from Brian’s jaw over his throat. Then, in the next breath, “Please…please. I just—I need you right now. I’ll make it good for you, I promise. Make it so good for you.”  
  
“Yeah,” Brian reiterates, winding his fingers best he can in Zack’s short-cropped hair and pulling up, pulling until Zack’s lips slide up to meet his own. Zack pushes them away from the kitchen counter as they kiss—and God, he’s kissing with such a desperation, Brian feels like he can’t possibly satisfy this need.  
  
“I just—I need you,” Zack breathes against his lips, repeating himself, as they stumble through the bedroom door. He tears himself away long enough to grab the back of Brian’s t-shirt and pull it over his head, but then he is pressed back up to Brian, wrapped around him, their mouths meshed in another long kiss.  
  
And there’s a lot Brian wants to say. _It’s okay, I get it, this isn’t hard to figure out…I’m right here, I love you, everything is okay…And if you need to fuck me right now to remind yourself of all that, then that’ll be okay, too…_ But somehow he can’t verbalize all of those thoughts and feelings, so all he manages is, “It’s okay. I love you.”  
  
“Want you—can we switch?” Zack begs quietly as they fall into the bed, and Brian’s stomach flip-flops. “Please, want to feel you…”  
  
 _And okay_ , Brian thinks, nodding into their kiss and idly trying to shush the other man. _If you need_ me _to fuck_ you _right now, then that’ll be okay, too…_  
  
And it ends up being a lot of foreplay, almost all foreplay, with a quick embarrassingly-short fuck at the end. But God, Brian can’t help himself, not after the way Zack lays him down in the bed and then fucking _worships_ his body with his mouth and his hands. He gets kissed and licked, stroked and touched all the way from his lips and cheeks to his hips and thighs. Zack even spends a good amount of time pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses to Brian’s erection, in the sort of way that would have Brian calling out ‘tease’ in any other situation. As it is, he lets Zack do as he wants, then holds on when Zack straddles his hips and rides him.  
  
And in his typical horrible manner, he says the first thing that comes to mind afterward once they roll apart, still panting. Which is, “Well, that was quick…”  
  
Zack slaps a hand over his face, breathing heavy, and moans, “I’m _so_ sorry.”  
  
But Brian shakes his head, flushing slightly in embarrassment, and points out, “I came first—I should be the one apologizing.”  
  
Zack groans, not removing his hand from over his face. “Do _not_ fucking apologize for having an orgasm. Please.”  
  
That makes Brian chuckle, and he rolls to the side to press his blushing face against Zack’s shoulder. The man smells good, like sweat and sex, and he breathes him in, closing his eyes. “I’m just saying,” Brian says. “I don’t think it counts as ‘premature’ if everyone, you know… Got their jollies, or whatever. At least, I’m going to tell myself that.”  
  
He hears Zack snort out a laugh, and when he glances up to the man’s face, Zack’s lips are curled up into a smile even if his hand is still covering his eyes. It’s the first smile Brian’s seen since the other man’s been home, and it makes Brian grin as he presses his face back to Zack’s shoulder. “I suppose,” Zack agrees after a moment. Then, his tone a bit playful, “And you had good enough ‘jollies’?”  
  
Brian chuckles, butting his nose against Zack’s shoulder as he nods. “Yeah,” Brian says. “Good fucking jollies…”  
  
Zack laughs outright then, taking his hand away from his face and rearranging himself, curling his arm under Brian’s head and shoulders and cuddling him close. “I’m glad,” Zack says. Then, after a beat of silence, “Thank you. I—I just needed you, needed to… It scared me, seeing that kid, and I—“  
  
“It’s okay,” Brian tells him sincerely, interrupting his rambling. “You’ve been here for me for the past…I don’t even know how long. Been putting up with all my shit, everything. So I think I can be here for you, too—I _want_ to be here for you.”  
  
“You’re always here for me, always have been. More than you realize, I think,” Zack answers softly, pulling Brian even closer. Then, “I love you, babe.”  
  
“Love you, too,” Brian murmurs simply in reply.


End file.
